Keeping The Dead Quiet
by Briganna
Summary: Shane Monroe, a troubled teen misfit has just killed his best friend with the help of his friend Kevin. After burrying the bodies Shane gets sent to live with his father,who Shane hates, and is haunted by his guilt and only a new love can settle his pains
1. Dreams And Fears

"…In my minds eye, my thoughts light fires in your cities"

-Charles Manson on the Tate-LaBianca murders.

Chapter 1.

I dreamt of smoke and fumes. Of naked, twisting bodies while music pounded through my blood. Laughter like battle cries filling the room while I moved in slow motion, colors smeared across my eyes. I met mouths with my lips, not knowing who they belonged to as I moved through the room, flashing lights blinding my eyes. A hand clapped me on the back as I walked; I was pushed back against a wall, a mouth on mine. I tasted cherry lip gloss and Vodka. I nodded to Kevin who looked up from licking a line of salt off of some girl's stomach as she bent over a chair. All the bodies around me were jumping, twisting, dancing and rubbing against each other as I walked through them, inhaling the smoke as I did. Everything moved in time with my lazy heart, my drugged senses distorting limbs and faces. A hand touched my back and slid over my shoulder to my chest; I stopped moving through the molasses and saw her. Her skin was sparkling under the neon lights; the fake, long white eyelashes she stuck on brushed my jaw as she pressed her heavy painted lips to my neck. I could smell her perfume and part of me pictured me taking the bottle and inhaling the fumes.

She brought her lips to mine and I felt her tongue touch mine, slipping a pill into my mouth. She pulled back and smiled at me, the top of her low cut shirt barely covering her chest. We ended up in a room, now everything was moving quickly. My heart crashed against my ribs, I could feel the music in my veins from the other room. All I wanted was her, her as she pulled that little shirt over her head and onto the floor. Just her.

I woke up feeling like someone had sandpapered my bones to dust. My eyes were foggy as I blinked, trying to see the poster over my bed. My jaw ached like I had been curb stomped and my mouth felt dry. I rolled over and my arm slipped from my bed, hitting the floor below me. I closed my eyes tight against the throbbing in my head as bile rose in the back of my throat. There was pounding but it wasn't coming from inside of me, not even in my room. When there was pounding at my door, I realized it was just Tracy. My mom. The pounding on the door continued for five, migraine filled seconds.

"Shane, get up and get ready to school. You're going to be late." And then she was pounding down the stairs again.

"Fuck." My groan was muffled by the pillow half lodge into my throat. I sat up, kicking the blankets off of me and looked down at myself. My pants were around my ankles, but I still wore my boxers. There was sticky glitter smeared over my chest and stomach. I picked off a fake, white eye lash off of my boxers and flicked it to the ground with the other junk. When I licked my lips, they tasted of lemon salt and lip stick.

I stood up, but tripped over my pants around my ankles, falling in a pile of dirty clothes on my floor. I rolled over onto a pizza box and stared up at the ceiling. I felt like shit on a school morning. I had sex with a girl I couldn't even remember. And now I was lying on a pizza box. A normal morning for me.

After my shower, I put on the same pants I wore the night before and a long sleeve, gray t-shirt. Over that I put on a black shirt with some logo and then my black sweater, zipping that up. My music vibrated in the walls, the over sized speakers near my bed, and when I opened my mouth to sing along, I could feel the music in my lips. The neighbors would be complaining, they always did. Fuck them, I thought. Maybe if my father hadn't left my mom, we could afford a better goddamn house and not live in the fucking projects. Goddamn fucker, I hope he had a heart attack while he boned my step mom in the Caribbean.

I grabbed my car keys off my desk littered with food, soda cans and condom wrappers before kicking off my stereo and slamming my door shut. I locked it behind me and turned to see Samantha crossing her arms over her chest.

"You know one day, you're going to be too stoned to remember to lock that and moms going to see everything you're hiding." I got right up in my sisters face, glaring down at her.

"Keep your mouth fucking shut," I swore. "Or I'll tell mom that you took her car to be a little slut with your boyfriend."

"Go ahead," she stepped up even closer to me. "I'll show her where you hide your stash."

"Shane, Samantha! What is taking so long?" I walked away from my sister, hearing her follow and to the front door. "Wait Shane." I paused, my hand on the door but my back to my mom.

"What is it?" I asked the floor, feeling anger inside of me.

"When did you get in last night?" Tracy asked from the kitchen.

"None of your goddamn business, I'm late for school."

"Like you care," Samantha snapped, pushing past me out the door. I slammed the door shut and followed her. She got in my car on the passenger side and pouted like she was impatient. I got in and fired up my crappy car.

"It's eight o'clock already," Samantha pointed at the clock on the dashboard, letting her hand fall back onto her thigh with a slap. I stopped at the red light and lit up a cigarette. "I'm going to get detention again."

"You could walk yourself," I suggested, rolling down the window.

"It's like fifty miles away!" God I hated it when she exaggerated.

"Then get a bike or a bus card," I blew out smoke and hit the gas when the light turned green. "Or have that slug boyfriend drive you."

"He lives on the other side of town." She crossed her arms and scooted down in her seat. I ignored her and turned up the stereo until it rattled the windows and smoked away my migraine.

We got to school just as the first bell rang. Samantha grabbed her shit and threw open the door. "Have a good day sweetie," I called after her, slamming my door shut. She flipped me off as she hurried across the grass and up the steps to the school. I met Kevin over by the tree we hung out at and slapped his hand, stubbing out my cigarette.

"Damn dude," he stomped out his own joint. "Why don't you just leave her ass at home?"

"Tracy would kill me," I shrugged. We started walking at our own pace up the steps; everyone else was already heading to class.

"Say you forgot or something."

"Not that easy man," I shrugged as we entered out Spanish class.

"Usted es tarde," Senorita Malcolm announced as we entered the room.

"Right," Kevin scoffed. We took our seats in the back of the room and I settled in for a nap. I pulled my hood over my head, sank down in my seat and popped my head up on my hand. I needed to get my sleep. But Kevin slapped my arm a few times. "Dude, Shane. Look at Senorita Malcolm." I lifted my head, hardly able to see under my hood but looked anyways. Senorita Malcolm was wearing a white button up shirt, the little red buttons struggling to stay stitched over her chest, her pencil skirt hugging her hips.

"You're twisted man," I chuckled, settling back into sleep.

"I know who is going into the spank bank tonight," he murmured. I laughed again but was already falling asleep.

It wasn't long before Kevin hit my arm hard enough to make me lose my balance and wake me up. "What the fuck man?" I growled, but he had his face pointed down to his book, his mouth twitching as he tried not to laugh. I realized everyone in the class was twisted around in their seats, smirking at me. When I looked up, Senorita Malcolm was standing over my seat, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders.

"Me diría usted lo que usted tuvo para cenar anoche?"

"Uh," I sat up, pushing back my hood as I wracked my brain for any Spanish I could muster.

"Would you please tell the class what you had for dinner last night?" She repeated in English, sighing.

"Uh," I repeated, someone laughed. "El taco and el salad-o with el soda-o." The class laughed and Kevin coughed to hide his laugh.

"Mr. Monroe, you are in Spanish three. Would you mind telling me how you passed your other two years?"

"With my overwhelming charm?" I guessed, smiling really big. Senorita Malcolm laughed despite herself.

"Doubtful," she nodded, turning her back on me and walking away. Kevin let loose his laugh and leaned over, clamping his hand down on my shoulder.

"That was some class A bullshit Shane," he laughed. I grinned and nodded so he would go back to his work. Kevin Stanley was a pretty cool guy, he knew how to chill and take shit plus he had the best pot. But the down side of Kevin was that he had tourettes so when he was off his pills, he lashed out a lot. But his down fall was a silver lining for me; he always had pills to stabilize him.

After class, I had wood shop and Kevin had some other class. We went out separate ways and I went to go mess around with wood, I laughed to myself as I entered the class. I took my seat at the bar stool tables with big, metal machines placed in the middle of the tables. We had a substitute today, some fat man, who put on a movie and told us all to watch it. Yeah right.

I could see people texting on their cell phones; one girl was sitting under the table and talking on hers quietly. A group of nerds had their heads together and were whispering. One of the kids, a fire crotch, glanced up and met my eye. I glared and him and he looked away, throwing glances at me. Well, now I knew who they were talking about. They were probably worried I would mess up their epic plans to become rulers of the world or something. Two guys on the water polo team were arm wrestling, a small group crowded around them.

I rested my chin on my folded arms and thought about last night as I stared, unseeingly at the TV screen. I didn't really care about the chick I had sex with last night, I was just bummed I couldn't remember much of it. I remember she was pierced though, where most girls aren't. It had a gem on it, I remembered that. And I remembered how her fake eyelashes ended up stuck to my boxers; that I dwelled on a little while longer.

"Shane," someone in the back called. "Shane, come here." I turned and saw Dean Stevenson, waving me over. I got up and joined him at his table in the back corner. Dean Stevenson was from my part of town, his dad was a wife beater and in and out of jail often, me and Dean knew each other from way back.

"I got a new shipment," he whispered.

"How much?" I asked instantly, tallying up the amount of money I had hidden in my room.

"Wait," he looked around and lowered his voice. "This stuff is new. I don't know its real name, but people call it wood chips."

"Why the hell do they call it that?" I frowned.

"I'll show you." He lifted up his text book and there was a line of regular wood shaving, diced and cut in rows. It looked like powder, like Dean had grinded and re-grinded it. "Snort away." He handed me a dollar bill that was rolled up. I looked at the sub and saw him dozing off in the teacher's chair and bent over the wood shaving with the dollar bill to my nostril.

I snorted up the line and felt it lodge its self in my brain, my eyes watering. I had snorted before, but this shit stung.

"Shit man," I coughed, wiping my nose on my sleeve.

"Wait, calm down Shane, just wait," Dean nodded. I sat still, blinking back the water in my eyes and waited. I felt the wood sort of dissolve and sizzle in my brain. It gave me the goosebumps down my neck, my hair rising on end.

"Whoa," I breathed.

"Right? And the real shit is even better."

"How much?" I wiped my nose again.

"Fifty for a line."

"Fifty for one fucking line?" I pinched my eyes shut to get rid of the water. Dean could afford that, even though he lived in the projects with me, he was good at picking the richer kids to deal to. They always wanted more, and bought more. Dean got a cut of the pay and saved it, that's why he was sporting the new watch and shoes.

"It's not even on the market yet; the prices will even out more. It's worth it, trust me." I took a deep breath; the stinging in my brain was still there.

"Alright fine," I sucked in air.

"Please, pot head." I turned around and saw Kimberly Walsh watching me, her blonde hair over one shoulder to reveal the hickey on her neck. I noticed the red lip gloss on her mouth and remembered something.

"Hey baby," I sneered. "How's that gem?" I brought my fingers to my mouth and made a gesture that made her face drained of color and she turned around quickly.

"Get me the money tomorrow, and I'll bring you a line." I nodded and grabbed my shit as the bell rang. Dean walked beside me on our way out Kimberly Walsh's wall of blonde hair in front of us. Her and her little friend were whispering to each other, I listened.

"I saw you last night at the party," her friend giggled. "With Shane Monroe."

"Yeah," Kimberly breathed and I caught the smile on her face. But it disappeared quickly. "Don't say anything." In Kimberly's world, the words Don't Say Anything, always meant the opposite. When she shagged Bryant Montgomery behind the Ferris wheel, she told her friends to not say anything. Word got out and Kimberly went from girl with big boobs, to hot girl with big boobs on the cheer team who fucked a foot ball player. She loved the attention.

"I won't," her friend obviously lied. "But come on, Shane Monroe? Sure, he's gorgeous but he's trouble Kim." Kimberly rolled her eyes. "You wouldn't know how to handle him." I intervened then, throwing my arm around Kimberly.

"She knew how to handle me last night," I purred into her neck. Kimberly twisted around and pushed me hard.

"Shane Monroe you disgusting pig—druggie waste, you are a freak. Why can't you do this school a favor and just go die?" She grabbed her friend by the wrist and they stomped away.

"She wants you," Dean laughed. Everyone in a ten foot radius had stopped and was gawking at me.

"Yeah man," I mumbled, walking away.

I met up with Kevin and Dean under the tree during lunch and lit up a cigarette. Dean was too busy retelling the story about Kimberly Walsh to Kevin, so I turned around and looked over to the quad area where everyone was eating. Why can't you do this school a favor and go die? Her words ricocheted around in my brain as I looked at everyone. I had known these kids most of my life, from kindergarten to my junior year in high school. I had been beaten up behind the stadium by the foot ball team, called a 'freak' 'druggie' 'Goth' and 'pot head' as long as I could remember. I've been banned from school dances for 'inappropriate behavior' and being stoned out of my mind. I never offered them to get wasted with me on the cliffs or smoke up a joint. Last night at the party with Kimberly was a normal thing, a truce. I didn't bring a gun to school and wipe out everyone of their fake smiles—even though I imagined it a million times to where I felt the gun in my hands—and they would get high and fuck me faceless at a party. But the next morning, we went back to our invisible walls.

And today I had torn down that wall with Kimberly. It was fine really; I knew that if the circumstances were different, if I didn't do drugs, didn't hate everyone of them, that most of the girls here would nail me in a coat closet. I could have my pick of girls but they had to have the excuse of a party and alcohol to go into the mix.

Fuck them, I swore in my mind. I could bring a gun, and end it. End everything. I would pump rounds after rounds into their Barbie doll faces and jock bodies. I didn't need this shit.

Kevin threw his arm around me then, breaking my revere. "Smooth dude, I would've given my left nut for a night with Kimberly." Just then, Kimberly looked up from her table and met my eye. She rolled her eyes and turned away from me, talking animatedly to her friends.

"Yeah…" I shook him off of me. "Come on." They followed me through the quad area, ignoring the stares and whispers as we did. I spotted Samantha sitting in her boyfriend Mike's lap at a lunch table near the stone wall. I walked over, slamming my hands down on to the table. The trays rattled and Samantha and her friends gasped.

"Damn it Shane!" Samantha growled at me.

"What's wrong little sis, did I scare you?" I pushed off the table, standing up right. "Hey Mike, comfortable?"

"Uh—er," Mike sputtered like an idiot, a handful of my sister's thigh in his hand. "Yeah."

"I bet," I nodded. "You don't want this right?" I reached over and took his milk carton.

"Shane, that's not yours," Samantha pointed out, her face getting red. She always got red when she wanted to kill me.

"It's Kevin's now," I shrugged, tossing it to Kevin.

"Thanks man," he smiled, but then it disappeared. "I didn't want white, I wanted strawberry milk!" And then he took off, storming towards the cafeteria, squeezing the milk carton. Me and Dean laughed but Samantha got pissed.

"God you are such an asshole Shane," she spit. "Why didn't dad take you with him to the Caribbean? Oh wait, I remember. He didn't want you!" Her friends laughed nervously and I stared at her. I could feel the shock on my face, the way my jaw was clamping slowly and how my hands were balling into fists. I had reached out and slapped her before I even realized I had moved.

The blow was very audible, causing her hair to swirl around her head.

"Shane, let's go," Dean said, anxious. Samantha had her hand on her face, tears in her eyes and she glared at me.

"I hate you."

"I hate you too," I said through clenched teeth. I was shaking; I knew Shane could feel it as he grabbed me by the arms, trying to tow me away. "I fucking hate you Samantha! I hate you!" Shane pulled me away, around the stone wall and towards the back of the cafeteria. I shoved him off of me, my skin was burning, and I wanted to hit her again.

I brought my hands up onto my head, grabbing fistfuls of my hair and I breathed in deep through my teeth. "Shane, it's okay," Dean was saying. He had his hands palm up to me, carefully stepping closer to me like a snake charmer.

"No it's not okay Dean!" I shouted. I was crying now, I only cried when I was real pissed, livid—furious to the point where I couldn't take it. "I fucking hate her!"

"I know you do, I know." He was trying to calm me down like he did to Kevin when he was having one of his episodes. I whirled around and slammed my fist into the wall three times before turning back around to face him. Once, when I had gotten like this, I had slugged Dean in the face. I felt horrible about it afterwards; I had been friend with Dean since I was born practically. He had spat out a tooth and had a minor concussion but he forgave me.

I took a deep, steadying breath and nodded. Dean patted me on the shoulder, his eyes careful. I took a few more deep breathes until my hands stopped shaking before I spoke. The bell rang, and just as it did, the back door the cafeteria burst open and Kevin stumbled out laughing. In his arms, he was holding a load of strawberry milk cartons.

"What'd I miss?" He breathed, chuckling. I couldn't help it, I had to laugh and Dean joined in. We each got a few milks from Kevin and headed to class.

I didn't wait for Samantha as I made my way to the parking lot. I nodded my goodbyes to Dean and Kevin as they got into Dean's car. It wasn't much better than mine, even with all the extra cash he had. He only spent what he needed on his car, bought clothes and survived. His dad was home between his next jail visit, whenever that would be, so that meant he would be spending all his extra time after work at the bar downtown. I couldn't tell who was luckier with the father situation, me or him.

I was lying on my bed, my head phones on and turned up loud after school. My mind was somewhere else as the pot settled in my body. Samantha came charging down the hall and started pounding on my door with both of her fists.

"You fucking bastard!" She cried, kicking my door. "Don't ever touch me again, you gave me a bruise! I hate you! I hate you!" I turned my music up, closing my eyes.

"What's wrong?" It was my mom now.

"Look at what he did to my face!"

"Oh my." Then Tracy's voice was at my door too. "Shane, open up. Open this door." I peeked and saw the door handle rattling. "Look at your sister's face, why did you slap her?"

"Because I told him the truth! That dad left because he couldn't take Shane's shit anymore!" I turned up my music to full blast. I could barely hear their muffled shouts, the door handle jiggled, the entire door bowed with their hits. Well not theirs but Samantha's, Tracy wouldn't flip out this bad, ever. Finally, I heard mom drag Samantha away and it was silent. I rolled over onto my side and fell asleep.


	2. Hallucinations

Chapter 2. Hallucinations.

I woke up sometime in the afternoon the next day, god I loved Saturday mornings. Samantha had soccer practice now, no sister drama. I rolled out of bed and clicked on my stereo and threw open my window. My room was starting to smell, there was a bunch of moldy food stuffed everywhere, plus my floor was covered in dirty clothes.

I eyed the muffin that sat on top of my TV and picked it up and took a bite. The rock hard bread wouldn't even let me bite through. I spit the crumbs on my floor and put back the muffin. I leaned out of my window and looked at the houses around my street. They were all falling apart, windows broken, rusty faucets. We could barely manage the rent, or even get money for food with my mom's job as a waitress. While my father shacked up with some ditzy TV guide model three cities over in their three story home and expensive cars. The only communication I had with him is the check he sent in the mail every month for five hundred dollars. Fucking douche bag.

A car rolled through my street then a BMW, they must have been taking a short cut through my street to the mall or something. The hood was down and all the girls inside were laughing as their hair blew around their heads. They spotted me and started waving and laughing, the driver honked the horn. I winked at them as they drove away and went back inside.

I lit up a cigarette, waving the smoke out of my face and fell down heavily on my bed. This is what I loved to do, smoke and sleep on the weekends. I watched the gray-white smoke coil in the air with my exhale and wondered what it would be like to be smoke. To be there but not really there, to disappear with a gust of wind. I stubbed out my cigarette bud on the headboard, a lovely row of charred circles forming and rolled onto my side.

I rummaged blindly under my bed, hanging off the edge until I felt the hard cover. I pulled out the novel, the pages fanning out. Wuthering Heights, it was a book for expensive woman with expensive homes lying around in bed, with their glasses on a golden chain as they read after a long day. Not for some loser lying around in his crappy house, with nothing to do. I had read this book so many times that the pages were dull and the cover was duct taped, bound with a rubber band and a sticker. The only person who knew that I even seen the cover of this damn book was my mom.

I was up to the part where Catherine died after giving birth to her kid prematurely when the phone rang. I set down the open book and went on a scavenger hunt for the house phone. I found it under a dirty sock wedged behind my stereo.

"What's up?" I answered.

"Come over, I got a new X-Box," Kevin said way too freaking fast, his words mixing together. I could hear explosions in the background and a few shouts of accomplishment and being pissed off. Kevin said something to someone else in the room and then to me. "Hurry up man." I glanced over at my bed, my Wuthering Heights book just flopped open, still on the right page because it was so over used. For once I should not go out and do something, not get high or drunk. I should stay home and just stay sober. My mom would have a stroke. "Shane are you still there?"

"Yeah, I am."

"So get over here, pick up some pizza on you way, cool?"

"Sure, cool I'm on my way." He hung up and I wedged the phone further behind the speaker.

I jumped in the shower so I wouldn't stink, and threw on some clothes before getting in my tin can car. My car whined and it made a grinding sound, I couldn't afford a mechanic, I couldn't even get a job. I was fired from every job from busboy at the cheap café downtown, to bag boy at Winco and even to the mail boy at HP. I chewed on the corner of my mouth, another stupid habit of mine as I turned into the parking lot at the Winco that fired me.

I went to the back to where they had a pizza making area; they made some freaking awesome ass pizza. I recognized some of the cashiers working but I never really liked them when I was working here anyways. Anyways, I didn't get in the long line of people waiting to give their orders; instead I went straight to the back.

"Jimmy," I called out, peeking behind the doors that lead to the small kitchen. "Jimmy!"

"Shane?" He popped his head out of the other kitchen door, his apron splattered in pizza sauce. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey Jimmy, can you fry me up a pizza?"

"Sure thing, same order: extra large, extra sauce, extra cheese and extra toppings for half the price?" He smirked, wiping his hands on a towel.

"You know me well," I chuckled. I followed him back to the kitchen area and leaned against the counter as he threw my pizza together.

Jimmy was a pretty cool guy. He was twenty-seven years old with a baby girl with big blue eyes and wispy blonde hair. He worked double shifts here and one as a dentist's assistant's assistant. He had thrown away a scholarship to Stanford to play football so he could raise his daughter when his ex girlfriend showed up out of the blue after a year of no word and dumped the baby on him. He was the most decent guy I knew; he hardly even had a beer.

"Hanging out with the guys tonight?" He guessed, kneading the dough.

"Yeah, Kevin's got some new game and wants me to come over, or something," I shrugged.

"Since when does Shane Monroe play video games?" Jimmy cooed mockingly. "You were always the intellectual one, the Heathcliff kind." He looked at me with a wink. Damn it, I had forgotten that he knew about that. After all, he was the one who bought me the damn book.

"I need a break from all the reading and studying I do all night long." He laughed and put the pizza in the oven. He wiped his hands on that rag again, his eyes looking for something on my face. "What?"

"How are you Shane?" I started chewing on the corner of my mouth and looked away from him, at the kitchen. It felt too hot all of a sudden. Jimmy was one of the only people I knew who could see right through any damn wall or barrier I put up. If he asked me 'How are you Shane?' It meant he wasn't going to take any of my bullshit answers that he actually wanted to know.

"Pretty shitty," I mumbled. I reached up to one of my earrings and twisted it nervously.

"Why what's going on?" He tossed the rag over his shoulder and leaned on the counter next to me. I kept twisting my earring and gnawing on my mouth, my teeth went through the skin and it tasted like blood.

"I didn't come here to bitch about life Jimmy," I reminded him.

"Oh sure, sure thing," he nodded sarcastically. "You just use me for food, I see." I chuckled dryly and let go of my earring.

"Can I just get the pizza?" I felt really depressed all of a sudden, maybe I would just drop the pizza off at Kevin's and go home, maybe pick up my Wuthering Heights book again. The oven pinged then and Jimmy retrieved it without a word and slipped it into a pizza box.

I dug into my pockets for my cash and handed it over to him but he wouldn't take it, he shook his head. "I'll get you on the next pie."

"Thanks man." I grabbed the box and got the hell out of there.

I kept on thinking about what Jimmy said. I cranked up the stereo hoping it would burst my eardrums so I wouldn't have to hear anything else from him.

I got to Kevin's house and saw Dean's car parked out front. I grabbed the pizza box and went inside without knocking. Kevin lived with his grandma because his parents kicked him out when we were in the eighth grade for no good reason. His grandma was sitting on a floral print couch staring at the old ass TV set that looked like it could crush someone. She was pretty blind so I doubted that she could actually see what she was watching, but she had hearing like a fucking bat.

"Hi Mrs. Stevenson," I grinned.

"Hello," she didn't look at me; she never really liked me much. "The boys are in Kevin's room." I didn't respond but went to Kevin's room down the hall. I kicked open the door and saw Kevin and Dean way into the game. Dean was sitting on a bean bag chair on the floor, a game controller in his hands. Kyle was bouncing on his knees on his bed, waving his game controller around as he bombed a cement building. I kicked the door closed behind me and slid the pizza onto the bed.

"Shane, get over here you have got to play this!" I walked over and sat down next to Dean on the floor. It was some war game and they had to sneak around and shoot at people. The screen went still suddenly and Dean stood.

"Pizza first," he announced, grabbing the box.

"Yeah I need to be refueled," Kevin agreed. They grabbed slices and shoved them in their mouths, hardly chewing before they swallowed. I passed on the pie and kicked back, lighting a joint I had stored in my sock before coming out here.

"Where are the drinks?" Dean joked.

I stood to go get some but Kevin shook his head, his cheeks completely full of food. "I got it. Nana!"

"What?" His grandma shouted back from the living room.

"We're thirsty!"

"Then come get something to drink!"

"Nana, we're playing a game!" Me and Dean laughed as we listened to them argue. But a minute later Mrs. Stevenson came in with an actual tray of sodas. We thanked her as politely as we could, which was harder for me because I was trying not to breathe because it would let out all the pot smoke that was harboring in my throat and lungs. When the door shut behind her, I coughed it out.

Before they restarted the game, Kevin shook a few of his tourettes pills into his palm and tossed them back. Whenever he got overexcited it made his meds wear off quicker than normal so he had to take more than normal. He recapped them and tossed them on the ground.

"Fuck," Dean groaned, looking at his watch a few hours later. "I'm exhausted."

"Going home?" Kevin asked his eyes still on the screen.

"Yeah, I'm beat." He looked tired; he had dark circles under his eyes. I remembered that his dad was home, and probably wasted.

"Want to crash at my house?" I asked. He looked thankful I asked.

"Yeah thanks."

We left a little bit after that, taking a few extra slices of pizza with us. We rolled down the windows so we could smoke a few cigarettes and not stink up ourselves and listened to some music. It was nice driving with Dean, he didn't feel the need to fill every second with chatter like Kevin would and he didn't swear at me and tell me how much he hated me every few minutes like Samantha.

I stopped by Dean's house so he could get his stuff. His house was almost as crappy as mine. Squat, white and pealing his little house sat on a dying lawn. The rooms were dark except for the flickering light of the TV, his dad was home. He hesitated before opening the door, the light over head flicked on when he did.

"Want me to go in with you?" I suggested. I've dealt with his dad before. He didn't answer me at first.

"Nah, I'm cool. If I'm not out in ten minutes and you hear screams, call the national guard." I chuckled dryly, uncomfortably as he got out of the car. His shoulders were bunched as he walked across his dark lawn to his house. The screen door slammed shut behind him, he left the inside door open. There were a few ruffled shouts but nothing severe. I saw Dean's dad's shadow move across the window. I smoked my cigarette quickly, taking long, fast drags, drumming my fingers nervously on the steering wheel.

I kept glancing at the clock on the dashboard, waiting for Dean to hurry up and grab his shit. I hated his dad. The last time I ever slept over here, his dad had stumbled in, swimming in liquor and screaming spit at us. He had thrown everything in Dean's room around and picked me up out of my sleep by my shirt collar and slugged me in the face, thinking I was his son. Dean had grabbed his lamp off the desk and broke it over his dad's head. It sent his old man to the ER and Dean went to live with his brother in North Dakota for a month.

After seven minutes of waiting in an atmosphere of static, I got out of the car and hurried over to the front door. Before I could grab the door handle, I could hear shouting from far away. I threw open the door and hurried into the house that reeked of cigarettes and sweat. I ran to Dean's room and saw Dean cowering beside his desk, his dad was hunched over him, his clenched fist poised in the air.

I slammed into his dad hard enough to hurt my ribs, sending his dad sprawling on the floor. I helped Dean up, who scrambled to the doorway. His dad was on his feet quickly, wearing boxers and a stained white muscle t-shirt.

"Are you in on this too?" He shouted. "I know he's dealing drugs! That little shit is throwing away his whole goddamn life away. We could get out of here! We could make something happen but he threw that away."

"He's not supposed to be taking care of you!" I shouted back. "You're his dad! You're supposed to take care of him!" He shoved me then but it was weak, he dropped his arms and sank to the ground and started to cry. It was a fucking pathetic sight. I turned around and rushed Dean out of the house and into my car.

We drove in silence. In my peripheral I saw Dean wipe his mouth on the back of his hand and there was a little bit of blood from when his dad hit him. I looked away and we drove to my house.

My mom and sister were home by the time we pulled up and I frowned, I didn't feel like dealing with them tonight. We got out and crossed the lawn without a word and went inside. My mom tore a path through the house to the door, the phone in her hand, her eyes wide.

"Where have you been?" She cried.

"I was at Kevin's." While she prattled on about how she had called around town asking her friends if they had seen me, I realized that I was standing in front of Dean, blocking him from my mom. I hadn't even known I moved until I heard Dean cough nervously. I rolled my eyes while she kept bitching and walked away from her, Dean following.

I shut the door behind us and Dean sank down heavily on my bed, kicking a pile of dirty clothes on the floor. He looked around my room with a frown.

"Was the city dump relocated to your bedroom?" I smirked and kicked off my shoes. "Wuthering Heights?" I froze and turned around. He was holding the novel in his hands, reading the back. I waited for him to chew my ass about it, call me a sissy or bitch at me for reading a romance book but he just set it down on my desk. "Good book, I read it a while back."

"I'm beat man," I yawned, my ears popping, too surprised to say anything else. I flicked off the lights and flopped down on the bed next to him and passed out.

Sometime during the night I woke up, still on my stomach, the way I went to bed, and heard a weird sound. My bed was kind of shaking a little bit; I looked over and saw Dean's back was shaking a little. He was crying, trying to muffle the sound. It felt like I was socked in the stomach and I didn't know what to do. I did the only thing I knew what to do, I turned my face to the wall so I wouldn't have to see him and shut my eyes.

The next morning we both looked like hell. Dean cried for a full hour and a half, I wondered when he was going to run out of water to cry. I was awake the whole time, feeling guilty for not doing something about it but at the same time exhausted. When he had finally stopped crying and fell asleep, I stayed awake for a while. I thought about the incident over at Dean's house until I finally fell asleep.

It was Tracy who woke us up. She had this bright idea to take us to Church. I tried to argue with her but the blank look on Dean's face made me shut up for once. The church my mom wanted to go to was one of those fancy ones where everyone got together once a month for a tea party on the preacher's yatch. She invited Dean with us but he didn't have anything nice to wear. So he went in his jeans and a button down shirt my mom still had that belonged to my asshole of a father at one time.

I stood in front of my mirror, glaring at my self incredulously.

"Looking sharp Shane," Samantha sneered from my doorway. "Love the tuxedo."  
"Shut up Sam." She laughed and left. I was in a fucking tuxedo! They actually wore tuxedos at this church, not a suit, but a tuxedo. It looked out of proportion with my eyebrow piercing and all the damn rings in my ears. Why did I even get them? I wondered. Dean walked over next to me in the mirror.

"We look like we're going to a funeral," he pointed out.

"I feel like it's mine. I look like a genuine jackass." He laughed and elbowed me.

"Let's go, your mom sent me in here to get you." I followed him out to the front door where my mom and Samantha were waiting. My mom looked beautiful. She was wearing a tan dress with little flowers sewn in and a string of pearls I had never seen her wear before. Like my tux, her pearls were probably from some other time.

"Oh Shane," she smiled when she saw me. "The last time you wore that tux you were Uncle Walsh's best man." She didn't mention the fact that we were so broke that Uncle Walsh had to buy me this tux. I didn't say anything about it. "You look so handsome."

"Thanks mom." I mumbled. Her shoulders sank a little as she turned around and we followed her out to her car. Before we reached it, I turned to her and whispered in her ear:

"You look really pretty mom." She smiled at me and patted my arm as I slid in the car after Dean. It was kind of cramped in her car, my mom drove, Samantha sat in front and me and Dean squeezed in the back. I was too tall for the car, so my head was pressed against the roof of the car until I slid down and then my knees were flat against my mom's seat.

"Shane, stop kneeing me in the back," she complained. I turned a bit to the side but then I was squishing Dean. Everyone was arguing until we finally reached the goddamn church. I unfolded myself out of the back and smoothed back my hair that got fucked up in the car. Samantha saw me and flipped her hair at me mockingly. We both had dark, wavy hair like He did. My mom had strawberry blonde hair that reached her shoulders.

The church was big and this golden brown color with a statue of Jesus outside in the parking lot. There was a bell tower in the back and I absently wondered if Quasimodo would mind if I chilled with him for the next hour and a half. It was pretty crowded inside and everyone was staring at me. I glared at the ones I made eye contact with and no one came up to us.

A few guys near the front doors were gawking at Samantha so I made sure I walked closely behind her, blocking their view until we got inside and sat down. We had to keep standing up and sitting down so many fucking times I was getting dizzy. After every damn song we had to sit down to say a prayer and then back up for another song. Finally the preacher came out to the podium thing and held out his arms like we should all praise him for all the calf exercise we were just given.

"Let us all bow our heads and pray in worship," he bellowed. Everyone bowed their heads as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Even Dean. I looked over at my mom and Samantha and saw them praying with the preacher, I looked down at my shoes until he was finished and looked up.

He broke out his bible in its leather case, silk book mark and array of pens and pencils and began reading passages. He reading about the two women who were arguing about who was the real mother of a little boy. And God decided to test the two women. He told them to split the boy in half and share, one woman agreed to it but the other mom said she couldn't do that; she would just give up the son. Apparently the mom who wouldn't cut the boy in half was the real mom and the one who was willing to was the poser.

I didn't really get it. Why would anyone fight over a kid? And who the hell would want half a son? It would make everyone freak if they saw half a kid hopping around. On top of that I didn't really get how it tied into what the older man was saying until five minutes was left.

"Everyone is split in half at one time another," he said. "It's like a fork in the road, or a cross road. You have to choose with side of yourself you're going to pick to live with and how you see the world. Pick the wrong side and you could end up making the worst decision of your life."

Then at the end we prayed for the hundredth time and then went home.

"I should be getting home," Dean announced when we pulled up. "Thanks for bringing me Ms. Monroe."

"You're welcome," my mom smiled at him.

"I'll drive you home, just let me change first," I told him. I went inside and pulled off that tuxedo and threw it in the closet and pulled on jeans and a t-shirt that smelled decent enough for me to wear again and went back out.

"Are you going to be alright?" I asked him when we pulled up to the front of his house. He looked out the window at his little crappy house and nodded.

"Yeah, I'll call you later." He got out, and walked slowly back to his house. I lit up a cigarette and waited a minute before driving off. I drove home a bit slower than usual, taking the long way home that took me across the over pass and behind the mall before finally getting home.

When I reached my door way, I froze. The door was unlocked, open, and there was my mom standing in the middle of my room. In her hand were a baggie of my pot and a roll of my acid stamps.

"What are you doing in here?" I blurted. She jumped a little and turned to face me.

"What…what is this Shane?" Samantha's door open and she walked over to see what was going on. When she saw she gaffed, covering her mouth with her hand.

"I told you, I so called this."

"Go away Samantha," I snapped, storming into my room and snatching my things away from Tracy. "Why the hell are you in my room?" I demanded. Tracy's mouth flopped open, there were tears in her eyes.

"I just—the door was open and well you're so secretive! I needed to know what was going on in my own son's life."

"I have secrets for a reason mom!" I kicked my dresser and the things on top of it fell onto the floor. "Don't you get it? I lock you out for a reason! Now you're invading my privacy." She flinched away from me as I threw things off my shelves, not even caring if they broke or hit her.

"Shane, please!" Tracy cried, trying to calm me. "Stop this!"

"No mom! You stop; stop trying to be a part of my life. I hate you, I hate Samantha I hate my father! Stop trying to see what I'm doing, stop checking up on me. When school calls, hang up on them. Don't go down there and see what's up, stay here. You should've stopped him! You should've kept him here!"

"Shane…" she shook her head, her eyes wide. "This isn't about your dad; this has nothing to do with him."

"It has everything to do with him." Damn, I was crying again. "It's never been about me, it's been about him. He's the reason we live in poverty, why you're stuck dealing with me. I just want to be left alone…please." I lowered my voice when she started crying. She turned around and left quickly, her arms wrapped around her sides.

I shut the door and locked it behind her. She had dropped my pot and stamps when she left, so I picked them up and peeled three stamps off and licked the acid off of them. Before they could start effecting me, I threw open the bottom drawer of my nightstand and pulled out the cologne and plastic baggie. I held down the nozzle so the spray covered the insides of the baggie and held it to my face, breathing in deeply.

My heart started racing and the colors started blurring. I reached into my sock and pulled out my joint. But my legs turned into rubber when I stood so I collapsed on my bed. I fumbled with my lighter to light the joint and scooted myself over to the middle of my bed. My heart was really beating the crap out of my ribs as I watched the fan over me melt. The melted drops expanded in midair and turned into crying faces before they hit the carpet.

It started creeping me out so I smoked the joint and turned over onto my side and looked at the footboard. But the wood grains turned into ants that crawled over my blankets. I tried to kick at the ants or push them away but I some how rolled off my bed and landed on the floor by my window. The cheap, rough curtains that hung above my head turned into gray snakes that tried to bite my face. I crawled back on my bed, burning my hand on the joint. I swore and stubbed it out.

I pressed my face into my pillow and closed my eyes so I wouldn't see anything else. But a hundred different voices started whispering my name over and over. They became distinct enough that I recognized Kimberly's voice saying:

Why can't you do this school a favor and go die?

Samantha saying she hated me.

I covered my ears but then I could feel their hands on me, trying to claw me out of bed. I started crying into the pillow, I screamed as hard as I could, pushing my face deep into the pillow so no one would hear. I screamed until my throat felt like it was on fire and my jaw ached. "Leave me alone," I croaked at the hallucinations. "Just leave me alone." They seemed to listen to me because they all went away and I fell asleep.


	3. Smashing Pumpkins

Chapter 3. Smashing Pumpkins.

The next morning at school my voice was strangled sounding from all that screaming. I looked like I had had a bad trip, which I did, but I felt like shit. My skin was sickly pale looking and my eyes were red as fuck.

I had drank some coffee this morning but it hurt my throat even more and the cigarette I had on the way to school didn't help any. Samantha had ignored me all morning which was just dandy with me. I met up with Kevin in the front of the school and he told me just how shitty I looked. I told him to fuck off and went to Spanish class.

My teachers knew I was sick as hell so they made sure they called on me just as I was starting to doze off. I would have the wrong answer of course and I would sound like my throat was closing in on itself. The class would snicker and go on without me.

I had a steady headache by lunch time. I went with Kevin and Dean to the lunch line to get food but I didn't get anything. I crossed my arms as I got the chills in the cafeteria, squeezing the ends of my sweater sleeves.

"Why don't you go home?" Dean suggested, grabbing a bag of Doritos.

"Nah my mom found some of my shit last night, I had to double check to make sure she couldn't get back in my room. I don't feel like dealing with her."

"Well doesn't she have work?" Kevin asked.

"No, day off," I rolled my eyes and waited for them to buy their crap so we could go back outside. Elk Creek was always pretty cold but it was a bit warmer than the cafeteria. But still, I was shaking and my teeth were chattering as we stood around. Kevin and Dean were unaffected by the cold as they ate and talked. I sank down in the grass against the tree, shivering like hell.

"Maybe you're having a post over dose," Kevin said around a mouthful of turkey sandwich.

"I don't think that's actually possible," Dean frowned. I folded my arms in my lap and groaned as my stomach twisted. "Go to the infirmary." I nodded, clutching my sides.

"After lunch."

They went back to their conversations while I was practically writhing in pain against the train. Beads of sweat broke out over my face and my heart pounded. I was almost grateful when the lunch bell rang. Kevin and Dean went to their classes as I dragged myself to the administrative office in the front of the school.

The lady behind the counter was a larger lady wearing a white shirt as she typed up something, she looked annoyed and surprised to see me.

"Can I go to the infirmary?" I begged, groaning.

"Sure thing, go lay down in the back," she pointed. I dragged myself around the desk and into the room in the back. There was a bathroom here and two polyester cots pushed against a wall, making an L shape. There was a girl in one, she was passed out, snoring softly as she slept off whatever was bugging her. I laid down in the other and was soon out as well.

The receptionist lady woke me up a few hours later. I felt a lot better but my throat still hurt. "It's almost three, why don't you start heading home?" I shrugged and saw that the other girl was already gone. I left the warm office and into the cold air. It was drizzling now which helped me a little as I went to the parking lot. I still had to drive Samantha home, so I turned on the heater and waited for her.

The sound of a door slamming woke me up. Samantha was in the car, her binder in her lap. I must have fallen asleep as I waited for her. I turned down the heater, my car was pretty toasty and I would end up falling asleep as I drove.

"I saw you in the infirmary," Samantha blurted half way home.

"What were you doing in there?" I asked.

"I was dropping off the attendance sheet for Ms. Wallace...Are you alright?"

"Yeah, just coming down with something." She nodded, looking out her window. That was it for our conversation and we were both quiet when we went into the house.

I did a little bit of some late homework that my teachers probably wouldn't accept anyways because it was late. I grabbed a big glass of orange juice and brought it over to my room and read Wuthering Heights. The line "I lingered round them under that benign sky, watched the moths fluttering among the heath and harebells, listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass, and wondered how any one could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth." And I suddenly thought about death.

If I were to die in my sleep from an over dose or to get ran over by some one I pissed off by school, who would go to my funeral? My mom and Samantha would be there because they would have to be. But would anyone go on their own free will? Just to go I mean. Dean and Kevin might, might not. When Dean's cousin died he hadn't gone to the funeral even though they were close, instead he went with me to go buy a CD at the mall. And when Kevin's dog died that he had since he was a kid, he hadn't even blinked.

My aunts and uncles were dead to me already, if they died, I wouldn't go to their funerals. They knew how heartbroken my mom had been when He left her. But they hadn't offered her any sympathy whatsoever. Even my Uncle Walsh who made me his best man didn't mean shit to me. The only reason I was his best man was because his best friend had decided to go fishing with his boss that day and his brother was in Cabot with his mistress. My cousins were either already in their thirties or were still in diapers. The ones, who knew who I am, obviously wished they didn't. They gave me just as much shit as everyone else.

My mom's dad was already dead from some war and her mom was senile. She was the only family member I enjoyed visiting once in a while. They had her in some home, because she didn't remember anyone and would have some huge freak out if we said too much. They would have to restrain her and stick her with some sedative to get her quiet and into bed. But still, she was fun to be around. I tried to see her at least once every few weeks, or every month. Every time I saw her she would be sitting either in front of the window or trying to paint a picture from her memory.

She wouldn't know who the hell I was but every time we 'met' she would look up at me with a small smile and laugh. "Well aren't you interesting?" We would talk until they kicked me out. I let her do most of the talking. Since she didn't remember anything she would just prattle on and on about nothing that made no sense. But I would listen to her and feel good when I left. No one else ever went to visit her; they were just waiting for her to die so they could get all their inheritance.

She would go to my funeral. It was funny in a dry, pathetic sort of way how the only person in my family who actually cared about me didn't even know who the hell I was.

I took a short nap and woke up when Samantha called me for dinner. I was still thinking about my family while I sat down at the table and ate the spaghetti my mom made.

"Are you feeling alright Shane?" Tracy asked.

"I guess," I shrugged. "I feel better than I did earlier."

"Do you want any medicine?" She put down her napkin and was already on the move to the kitchen before I could answer.

"No, I'm fine."

"No you need something Shane," she argued.

"I'm fine I don't need anything." She wasn't listening though. She was too busy going through the cupboard. She took out a blue bottle and read the label.

"You need something sweetie, you don't look well. Here take—"

"Mom, I said I was fine. Will you just sit down?" I barked. She looked up at me from the bottle and her shoulders fell. She mumbled something sadly as she put the bottle back and sat down at the table.

"I was just trying to help," she said, eating. I didn't say anything as I finished up my plate and went back to my room.

The rest of the week at school I felt like crap. I went to lay down in the infirmary two more times and the receptionist suggested I see a doctor. I turned in some of my late work; my teachers actually took it, probably because they could tell I was getting some kind of flu and just wanted me to go away.

I hung out with Kevin and Dead during lunch and went over to Kevin's on Friday after school to play that new game he wanted me to play that I never did. He won every new game but I didn't care. I was hardly paying attention between the explosions on the screen, the pounding in my head and the sounds of his meds rattling around in his pant pocket.

I ate dinner there, some hamburger helper noodle thing his grandma made and cranberry sauce from the can. After one more game I ended up going home instead of staying the night. I didn't feel like hanging out anymore, I just wanted a cold shower and sleep for the next two days of the weekend.

When I got home my mom and Samantha were on the couch watching some movie they had rented with a big bowl of popcorn. I walked past them and into the bathroom. I turned on the cold water and a little twist of the warm and got in. The cold water felt good on my warm skin but soon it was too cold so I got out. Instead of just sleeping in my boxers I found a pair of gray sweats with soda stains on the knees—no clue how that got there—and put on a shirt before climbing into my bed.

The next morning I laid around in bed, only getting up to go take a piss or get something to drink before I went back to bed. Tracy took Sam to a soccer game over in Fort Bragg so I had the house to myself for once.

They came home with Chinese takeout, my favorite, but I couldn't eat any. My mom checked on me six times in one hour and offered to take me to the hospital twenty times.

"I'm fine mom; it's just taking a while to wear off."

"Are you sure honey?" She had that look of worry, tension in her forehead.

"I'm fine, honest." It went on like this every time she asked but I always said no. I didn't like hospitals much. I thought it was dumb to go in for little things like the flu. The last time I had been to the hospital for myself was when I fell out of the tree in our backyard when we lived in the better part of town. He had taken me and He had made a big fuss over it, saying He was proud of me for being 'such a big boy' and getting stitches and putting my arm in a cast.

The other last time, the last and final time, was when I had picked up Samantha as a favor for my mom from her soccer practice. I had taken my mom's old car, a Ford from sometime in the nineties, because mine was out of gas. I had been arguing with Sam and she tried to hit me so I grabbed her hands instead of watching the road and I went into the other lane. We were hit by some new Toyota Truck, not bad but enough to total my mom's car. We went to the hospital because they hit Sam's side and she had a minor concussion. My mom got a new, crappy, clunky VW Wagon to drive around. It's not that bad, better than the piece of shit black Volvo I drove. Technically it was a 1995 Volvo 940. Whatever, it was still a crappy, square shaped car.

After my mom checked on me for the last time, she gave me a cup of orange juice and some sleeping pills. I took them and again, was out.

Kevin called me around twelve and told me to come over. I wasn't all that bummed, all the sleeping I had been doing made me overly awake so I got dressed and headed over to his house. He met me out front, sitting on the curb with hammers in his hands. He looked different today; his eyes sharper than normal and I could hear his grinding his teeth.

"What's this?" I asked, taking the hammer from Kevin.

"We are going to smash some pumpkins," he smirked, leading me around to the back of his house.

"Whose pumpkins?" I asked. Kevin went up to some shed he had against a fence and started working on the lock.

"Mine," he threw open the door and I could see the shed had about a dozen pumpkins on a plastic tarp. "They're starting to rot and my grandma wants me to get rid of them. This way is more fun."

"I don't even want to know why you have a bunch of pumpkins," I chuckled, walking into the shed. In the back of the shed Kevin had a stereo so he turned that on before he reached into his pocket. "I got some of that wood chips stuff from Dean."

"No way? Let me get some." I stepped over the pumpkins quickly, almost colliding with him.

"Wait a second, let me get it ready then you can." I shrugged and sat down by the stereo on a pumpkin. Kevin bent over one of the pumpkins and got to work cutting lines out of the—whatever wood chips was made from.

I studied the hammer, felt the weight of it and twirled it as I waited impatiently. I didn't know I had been tapping my feet, drumming on my knees until Kevin said something.

"Dude, Shane. Stop moving, you're distracting me."

"Sorry." When he finished, I squatted beside him with a rolled up dollar and waited. After he snorted his line, I sniffed mine and sat back on my haunches. I welcomed the stinging in my brain that made me shiver. "Alright, let's do this pumpkin thing."

Kevin stood up and we sort of looked at the pumpkins for a second before Kevin swung his hammer and it connected with a fat pumpkin. Orange goo and seeds sprayed all over the shed, all over us. We both laughed and began swinging the hammers. The first one vibrated up my arms and I almost lost my grip. The drug made my senses sharper, the mess of the pumpkins was clearer, the music louder.

I thought of my father. I thought of him at the beach with my little half brother, both in their swim trunks and laughing. I swung and hit a pumpkin, it exploded.

I'm not coming back, Shane those were the last words he said to me when I was six, the day he left. He never did come back. I faked being asleep that night so he left without saying anything. I watched him leave. I swung the hammer at the chunks of pumpkin and they jumped in the air. I saw him holding my half brother Davie by the wrists and swinging him around on their huge, green lawn.

Why can't you do this school a favor and go die? I swung the hammer as hard as I could, with all my might.

You're a freak Shane! It hit the pumpkin with an audible whack.

Why do you have to do this? I watched it explode in slow motion, splitting and rising in the air.

You chased dad away! My hammer swung back, through nothing but air.

Why can't you love me? Hunks of smashed pumpkins exploded, hitting me in the chest, orange goo covering the shed walls.

I swung the hammer as hard as I could, anger burning in me white hot. I hated them. I hated my mom, my father, my sister and everyone else in my life that turned their backs on me. My older cousins stopped visiting me, my aunts and uncles no longer sent me birthday cards in the mail. My mom's brother stopped calling her when I blew up in his face at a family dinner, throwing his food onto the floor. My teachers failed me, I didn't fail them. I swallowed pills, smoked weed, sniffed powders and chemicals. I didn't care anymore. I wanted to die.

Finally, the plastic tarp on the floor was covered in liquefied pumpkin, juices. I was covered in slime, hardly able to keep a grip on the hammer. Kevin and I were both breathing hard, the music filling the shed. I caught Kevin's eye and we both laughed, our shoes squashing in the mess. I pulled out a joint from my pocket and lit it as we walked out of the shed, sliding a little.

"You've been sick this whole weekend, huh?" Kevin asked. I didn't correct him; I didn't tell him that I had been sick over a week.

"Pretty much."

"Feeling any better?" He really didn't care, he was just talking. He did that a lot. He always just opened his mouth and let words fall out. He ran a hand over his bristly, brown hair as I shrugged. He was really working his jaw, grinding his teeth together. I fucking hated that sound but he did it when he was stressed out since as long as I could remember.

"I guess."

"Listen, I'm going to meet Dean tonight. He's going to sell me an eight of pot and two hundred dollars worth of that chips crap." Oh, that was why he was stressed. Kevin was bored line drug addict. From popping his prescription pills to crazy things like shooting up, he did it all and he did it a lot. Too much. He always got tense and worked up when he was about to buy more crap. "But I really need it, so I might be too faded to get home."

"You want me to be the designated driver," I summed up. It was no big deal, just sucked because I would have to wait to get stoned.

"Yeah and I'll split the weed with you." By 'split' he meant get a hit off his joint.

"Sure man."

"Cool," he sat up, drumming his leg. He must have been off his pills because when he was twitching or talking real fast it meant he was sober. If he started jerking his legs or his shoulders and swearing than it was really bad and he needed his meds quick before he hurt someone. But he was okay right now, but before he went and got trashed he should take his meds. That was part of the reason why he was kicked out of his parent's house, I guess. They were the classy, sophisticated type and they couldn't live with a son who had some sort of disorder, they had been embarrassed. He had moved to here from somewhere in Arizona the summer before high school started.

The first time I met him, he had tried to steal my stupid bike that was waiting outside of the 7 Eleven. We fought, his grandma ended up calling my mom and Kevin had to apologize to me or something. But since then we were always hanging out together. If you asked him about his home in Arizona, he wouldn't say much. "It was glass." That's all he would basically say about it. I never knew what he meant by that until I was sitting with his grandma, waiting for him to get out of the shower and she told me about his home. Apparently his parents had been big on chandeliers, vases and book cases that were made from crystal or glass.

Just before he had moved here Kevin had gone crazy and broke as many vases and shelves as he could reach. The stuff he couldn't reach, he would throw the glass vases at or rocks he found outside. He had a couple little, thin, scraggly scars near his eyes and on his hands from all the glass but he didn't talk about those either.

It was kinda unnerving to me about how much I knew about my friends and they didn't know shit about me. Well that's not true. They knew the basics: I did drugs, I had an anger problem—not like Kevin—I was always lost inside my own head rather than talking, I was forgetful at times and that my father left me when I was six years old. And I hadn't seen him much in those eleven years he had been gone, once at his wedding to my step mom, I hadn't stayed past the I do's.

But only Dean now knew that I read books like Wuthering Heights or even Pride and Prejudice. But no one knew what I was thinking about all those times I got quiet, they didn't know that I hadn't always lived on this side of Elk Creek, I had had a nice home once, I had gone to a Christian Elementary School for a few years, the star shaped scars I had on my arms from burning myself with cigarettes.

"What's with you?" Kevin broke my revere.

"Huh?" I blinked and looked at him.

"You're always doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Getting lost in your own damn head. What? Am I not good enough to talk to anymore?" He elbowed me, joking.

"Maybe I find myself more interesting." He laughed and flicked the roach of his joint on the ground and booted it out. Just then the back screen door slid open and his grandma stuck her head out and waved a shopping list over her head.

"Kevin I need you to go to the grocery store for me."

"But nana—" he whined.

"No buts. I'll give you my credit card and I need you to clean up that mess you made." Kevin sighed, mumbling something under his breath.

"Sure nana." She went back inside and I chuckled.

"Shut it Shane."

I helped him roll up the pumpkin goo in the plastic tarp carefully so we wouldn't make an even bigger mess. We carried it out to the garbage cans on the other side of the house and dumped it in there. With the exceptions of a few orange streaks on the lawn, we did a pretty decent job at cleaning everything up. We put the hammers in a bucket half that was only half empty of water, probably not enough to clean them, but we let them sit in there.

I went to the bathroom to wash the pumpkin off my hands and neck as Kevin ducked into his bedroom to change. When we were finished, Kevin grabbed the list and card from his grandma. He had his own car but he was so cheap, he didn't want to spend money on gas ever. He didn't want to drive his grandma's car because it smelt like her, so I drove him around town.

Inside the grocery store we messed around with bread sticks, pretending they were swords as we made our way down the isles. They had those plastic candy bins with the red, plastic tongs and baggies you filled up and they over priced you. I reached in and grabbed a few handfuls of those little chocolate things with the white dots and another of gummy bears. I shoved them in my mouth as I followed Kevin around, filling up the shopping cart with more than what was on his grandmother's list.

At the counter I bought a pack of cigarettes, they never carded me not even when I bought liquor. I didn't really know why, I looked like a seventeen year old druggie kid who needed to go sun tanning more often and yet they just gave me whatever I purchased. After they loaded up the cart again, we went back out. I was pushing the cart so I stepped up on the bottom rack thing and pushed off like I used to when I was little, leaning over the handle. I nearly hit a truck until I put down my foot and skidded to a halt. I made Kevin put the bags in the trunk while I waited in the car, smoking and listening to music.

The sky was blue for once, but with a few dark clouds hanging out low. I blew smoke up at them and drove away when Kevin got in. We had to make a stop at the 7 Eleven on the other side of town to get his grandma her Black Cigarettes and a bottle of Sky Vodka. I bought myself some rum and stuck it under the front seat as I drove.

I even helped carry in all the crap and set it on the counter, gave his grandma her smokes and took a five from Kevin as a sort of thanks-for-chauffeuring-my-ass-around-town-because-I'm-too-much-of-a-cheap-ass-to-spend-a-few-extra-bucks-on-gas.

"I'll pick you up at nine-thirty," Kevin said as I stuffed the bill in my pocket. I needed a wallet.

"Alright, don't be late." I fucking hated it when he was late. He was never on time for anything unless someone else was there to bitch and complain.

"I won't be." I could tell he wasn't lying, he had that sharp look in his eyes and he was grinding his teeth. I hated that sound, it made me shiver. I said bye and left.

I was pretty hungry and there wasn't any food at home so I stopped by the diner my mom worked at over in Covelo. It took me over the highway and two bridges, an off ramp and a tunnel a trip that took forty-five minutes but I didn't mind. I liked the silence in my car for once. The diner looked like huge, silver, tin trailer had been rolled into a gas station and left there and some hobos turned it into a place to eat. The sign outside was neon pink and flashed the Coors Beer sign on the window was orange.

I opened the door, the bells jingling as I entered. There were a bunch of booths with that plastic, shinny, red padding and the colorfully flecked, laminated tables by the windows. I went up to the bar and sat on a stool, crossing my arms on the counter. I could feel people staring at the back of my head but I didn't pay them any attention.

"Hi sugar, what can I get you?" One of my mom's friends named Barbara was standing on the other side of the counter in her ugly yellow, white and red uniform. It was a rip off from Mc Donald's. She looked and talked like the trailer trash waitress type. She talked with a thick drawl, wore way too much makeup, had curly, red hair pinned up in a messy bun under her cap and smacked loudly on a piece of gum.

"Hey Barb, is my mom here?" Of course she was, I thought.

"Yeah, hold on a sec. Tracy!" She shouted, placing her hand on her hip that made all her thick gold and chunky indigo jewelry clunk. "Your sons here!"

"You're Tracy's son Shane?" I looked to my right at the man who had spoken to me. He was wearing a dirty jean jacket with a stained, plad, red shirt under than. He had dark brown, greasy hair and a beard flecked with gray and white hairs. His teeth were brown and black and his eyes were bloodshot, I leaned away a bit.

"Uh yeah?" I frowned. He nodded, sipping his black coffee and licking it off his lips. "Freak." My mom came out then in her uniform and it was obvious that she was surprised to see me.

"Hey sweetie." She leaned over the counter to kiss me on the cheek, I pulled away. "What are you doing here?" She pretended to not have notice.

"I'm hungry," I said simply.

"So you drove all this way because you couldn't make yourself something to eat?" Barbara asked in her annoying voice. I turned my head to her and stared at her blankly for a second before turning back to my mom.

"I'll make you something to eat," she winked and went back into the kitchen area.

"You should be nicer to your mother," the old man said.

"Excuse me?" I turned to him again. "Who the hell are you?"

"My name is Dennis, I've been coming here every day for four years."

"Yeah and? What does that have to do with me? I don't know you, don't tell me what the fuck to do."

"Shane William Monroe," Barbara snapped. I winced, I hated it when people used my full name, it was so annoying. "Be nice."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever." Tracy came out then and Barbara gave her a stern look before walking away.

"What was that about?" She asked, setting down a plate and cup in front of me and glancing at Dennis. Dennis shrugged, drinking his black coffee.

"Nothing, thanks," I mumbled. She had made me a grilled cheese sandwich and got me a cup of soda. She had cut it diagonally like she used to when I was little and there was a bendy straw in my glass.

"Are you feeling any better?" She put her hands on my face, feeling for a temperature. I hated when adults did that, when they put their hands all over my face.

"I'm fine mom," I leaned away from her, taking a bite from the sandwich. The door jingled and she excused herself. I ate in silence, listening to the sounds of the diner. It wasn't completely packed but there was enough customers wanting food that my mom had to keep moving.

I swiveled around in my chair and watched her work for a little bit. She jot down orders, B lined it to the kitchen, stuck the paper on a pin thing and was back out again to take another order. The sweaty, big guy in the back would ring a bell and my mom would go back, grab the plates and bring them to the right tables. I could tell she was getting tired. She kept on taking a quick pause behind the kitchen door to catch her breath and was moving again.

I ate four more sandwiches and drank down three more cokes while I was there. I always ate a lot but it never seem to stick in me, I was always skinny since I was little, it fueled my growth spurts I guess, and that's why I was six foot three now. When I was in middle school I had been five foot nine, taller than all the other students and even the principal. I wasn't freaky tall or too tall like some of the basketball players at my school who could knee you in the face if you turned around too quickly. I was comfortable with my height, but it was a pain sometimes, like now, the stools were bolted to the floor so I couldn't scoot back to spear my knees from being pressed into the counter.

Dennis got up, tucked a greasy newspaper under his arm, nodded goodbye to Barbara and eyed me before he left. The sun was setting outside, the street lights came on and all the traffic from people coming home from work was starting to thin out.

"I'm going to head home," I told my mom on her way back from the kitchen, balancing plates on her arms.

"Okay, did you eat enough?"

"For now," I teased. She smirked, the plates on her arms wobbling. I let her go so she wouldn't drop them and end up having to pay for them and went home.

When I got home, I flopped down on the couch that was so old you could feel the springs when you breathed. Samantha was watching that Splash movie with Tom Hanks and he falls in love with a mermaid. She got a real kick out of mermaids, her room was painted blue like the ocean and she drew on bubbles and fishes. I didn't feel like fighting with her about turning it to something else, instead I just watched it with her in silence.

She must have felt awkward not fighting with me or something or getting her way, so she tossed me the remote. She might have been trying to pick a fight because it almost hit me on the head but she mumbled, "Sorry." And kept watching TV. I turned it to my favorite movie of all time Fight Club and settled in to watch it.

Brad Pitt's hair reminded me of Kevin's and the other main dude kinda reminded me of Dean. They had that sad, tired look to them but really they were all fucked up deep down. When the Marla chick came on I told my sister, "You should cut your hair like hers." I don't really know why I said it, just to say something I guess. But I knew how proud Samantha was of her dark, wavy hair so I knew she would be pissed.

"Fuck you," she snapped. Yeah, she was mad. But that's all we said until the movie was over. A long time ago like when I was four and Samantha was three, we used to get along really well. I was always sharing my stuff with her, taking her with me places and playing games with her. If she wanted the last Caprisun in the fridge I would let her have it or if she didn't get any fries at Mc Donald's I'd give her mine. But then we started fighting and then one day when I was twelve I had pushed her into a wall and then everything unraveled from there.

It was strange for us to just watch a movie together. I glanced at the clock, it was nine-thirty. There was a car honk from outside, he was actually on time. I stood, tossing her back the remote.

"I'm going out."

"Fine." I made sure I had my cigarettes with me in my sweater pocket and went outside. Kevin's red Toyota was purring outside next to the curb, I could hear the music from my door. I jogged across the lawn and got in, it reeked of pot in here, more than usual anyways. We didn't say anything as he made a U turn and we were back on the road.

I excepted us to go to Dean's house or to some parking lot but we didn't take the street that went to his house.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"There's this back road by a bunch of abandoned buildings, you know it, we decided to meet there," he explained, switching lanes.

"Why not the usual spots?" I lit up a cigarette and turned on the heater.

"Dean says he wants to keep the drug deals as far away from his house as possible I guess."

"Is it because of his dad?" I wondered.

"Yeah, I think." His right arm twitched and he gripped his steering wheel. That's smart I guess, I thought to myself and smoked. I found a water bottle on the floor of the car and drank it, I felt uneasy for some reason.

We passed the houses, our school, the mall and went all the way back to where the old oil refinery once was. I held my breath until we passed the gross smell and Kevin turned right. He slowed down on a road that had one street lamp and went on for a straight mile or so to where the houses began on this side of town. To the right there was a bunch of shrubs and trees that were weak and scraggly looking from all the pollution. To the left was the backs of the said abandoned buildings.

Kevin pulled up until no one could see his car if they drove by and cut the engine. We sat in the darkness, smoking in silence. I cracked the window so my smoke would leave the car but not enough for the cold air outside to get in.

Kevin wouldn't sit still. He was twitching a lot, grinding the hell out of his teeth. He put his elbow up on the window and put his head in his hand, palm in his forehead. I watched him, smoking slowly. His right hand was balled into a fist on his thigh and he twitched so hard that his left arm fell off the window.

"Fuck," he swore under his breath.

"Hey man, maybe we should do this another day," I suggested, he looked like hell.

"No, no," he shook his head, talking through his teeth like it was painful. "I need them now. It's been too long." I made a mental note to get some flyers from a rehab for Kevin to flip through when we got back. I stubbed out my cigarette in the ash tray that was more a pile of ash than anything else. I watched him fumbled with his own cigarette, trying to get it lit, he kept swearing under his breath. Finally he got it lit but his hands were shaking so bad that the cherry fell off and into his lap. He patted it out, swearing and lit another.

"Did you take your meds Kevin?" I asked a little nervously, I lit another cigarette.

"Y-yeah," his voice quivered and he took a shuttering breath. "Earlier, I should've taken more. I'm fine for now though." I nodded and grabbed the lever on the side of the seat. I pulled it up and slid my seat back so I could lay down for a bit. I still wasn't feeling too good and I was getting pretty tired.

Kevin had a sun roof so I stared up through the glass at the twinkling stars in the sky. Anywhere else in Elk Creek, the stars were bright enough to wake you up, but near the refinery it was clouded out with smoke. I could still smell the cooking coil that gave me a bad taste in my mouth so I rolled up the window but kept smoking.

After a long while, I sat back up and drank the rest of the water. I checked the clock, it was ten-twelve. "When is he to get here?" I yawned. "I'm fucking tired."

"He'll be here soon," he reassured himself more than me. "But here, we might need these." He leaned across me to the glove box compartment in the dash board and popped it open. The little light bulb blinked on inside but there was too much trash for me to see anything. He pulled something dark out and set it in his lap and then reached in again and pulled out another.

"Man, why do I need this?" I asked, taking the gun. It was cold and heavy, my stomach tightened. "We're just meeting Dean."

"Yeah, but you've dealt with difficult drug dealers before," Kevin glanced around the dark road. His hands were shaking on the steering wheel; he must not have taken his meds like he said. "I just want this to go smoothly, Dean can be a flake you now that."

"Yeah, but Kevin," I shoved the gun in my waist band. I didn't like this. "We've known Dean for years, he wouldn't stiff us."

"Shh, shut up." Car lights flared in our rear view mirror as an Oldsmobile pulled into the lot, it must have been his dad's car. "That's Dean." Kevin was definitely shaking now. I could feel the metal of the gun digging into my hip.

"Come on Kevin, he's our friend we don't need guns."

"Yeah maybe—wait, who the fuck is that?" Kevin twisted around in his seat to get a better look. I craned my neck and saw a stockier guy with Dean, I recognized the other kid from somewhere. I wracked my brain and remembered that he was on the basketball team for our sister school.

"That's Mark Stacie," I announced. Kevin nodded, not even listening to me as he opened his door.

"Alright, let's just get this over with." I followed him out of the car, flicking my cigarette to the ground and shoving my hands in my pockets. It was freezing out, my breath snaked in the fog, I could feel the cold metal of the gun against my hip with every step I took.

"Hey Dean," I grinned. There was tension amongst the four of us and I didn't know why. Hadn't we all done this before? Dean nodded to me, a grin on his face but that was it.

"Alright, so are we going to do this?" Kevin asked. Mark Stacie glanced at me nervously, and it sparked a memory.

I had been wasted at a party…Mark had been there. He had been bugging me, trying to hang out with me I guess; he was a year younger than me. After a while, I started getting really pissed off. I told him to fuck off a few times, but every time I turned the corner, he was there. When I was reaching into the fridge for a beer, he was there. We all knew that Mark wasn't exactly straight, I never had a problem with that, but tonight…I don't know it gave me the creeps. So, I told him to meet me in the bathroom for some alone time, and little Mark had believed me. So me and Kevin hid in the shower and waited for Mark. I remember laughing quietly as we waited, the shower curtain had had ducks on it.

When he came in, it was dark; he hadn't flipped on the lights. We tackled him to the ground, pressing his mouth down into the carpet so no one could hear him crying. We had stripped off his clothes and duct taped his hands and feet together.

Crying and biting down on duct tape, Mark looked pitiful as we dragged him, laughing, through the hall and onto the front lawn. Someone hard turned the sprinklers on him as we all laughed at his naked body, bound together and crying. Sure, I felt god awful about it after, but I never apologized.

And when Mark glanced at me again, I felt like shit. I would apologize to him, just not in front of everyone. I knew Kevin remembered, how could you not remember humiliating someone like that?

But from the corner of my eye, I saw Mark reaching behind him slowly as Dean pulled out our stash from his pocket. My hand went automatically to the gun in my wait band and I saw Mark's intuition flare. Suddenly he lunged at me, tackling me onto my back. He was pounding my face with heavy fists, leaning his weight down on me. I managed to push him off of me and pull out the gun and point it at him. He didn't seem to care about it, he lunged at me again, all the pent up rage and hate for me coming out in waves of anger. He grabbed the gun and tried to wrestle it from me, pointing it up wards. Our bodies were smashed together as we both tried to get the gun.

If Mark got it, he would kill me for what I done to him. I wouldn't blame him; I would've killed me too.

My wrists burned from being twisted, my hands locked on the gun. Mark gritted his teeth; his face was turning red as he tried with all his might to get the gun. Our hands tightened at the same time and a blast went off, pain shooting through my stomach. I felt the shock on my face, mirrored by Mark's face. Everything was still, completely still. The kind of still you would love on any other night but tonight. And then Mark coughed, a blood bubble pouring out from his mouth and he went slack on top of me.

I pushed him off of me, my heart pounding as I looked at his dead body. He was staring up at me, blood coating his lips. Something warm covered my hands and I scooted away as a far as I could, gaping, a pool of blood formed around where he lay.

"Mark!" Dean's scream set everything in motion. I looked up and saw him running at me. Another blast went off and Dean fell to his knees before swaying and landing on his face. The back of his head was covered in blood, a bullet hole deep in his skull. I looked up, horrified and saw Kevin still pointing the gun at where Dean had just been standing.

"What did you do?" I shouted, scrambling to my feet and away from the two dead bodies. Kevin's face shifted, palled, and he dropped his gun. It clattered to the floor by his feet and he stumbled backwards. Kevin stared at the bodies, his mouth gaping. "Fuck!" I shouted, turning away from him and the bodies. I grabbed the sides of my head, breathing hard as I paced quickly. What were we going to do? We just killed two people! "Fuck, no, no! This can't be happening. No!" I ground my teeth together as my stomach suddenly lurched, but it was too much. I fell on my hands and knees and threw up on the cement. I gagged and spit, forcing the taste out of my mouth. This couldn't be happening.

I got back on my feet, swooning a bit as I tried to stay on my feet and conscious. I went back to Kevin who was still staring, disbelieving what he had just done. I shoved him and he stumbled back, his eyes on me now.

"What the fuck man?!" I shoved him again. "Do you know what we just did? They're dead! What are we going to do?"

"I—I know," he coughed. He shook his head suddenly, coming to his senses, his eyes no longer dull. "I know what we have to do."

"What Kevin? Pray that they stand up and forgive us?" I scoffed, wiping my eyes. "Why don't we just bury them then? That would be a more conceivable option." Kevin didn't say anything; he was staring at me with a hard, knowing look.

I froze.

I looked at the bodies and back to Kevin, my face going cold. "No…are you kidding me? We can't bury them!"

"Stop yelling," Kevin hissed. "We're too far away from anyone for them to have heard the gun shots—"

"But someone could have Kevin!" I groaned my stomach was churning painfully.

"Exactly, we can't just wait here for the police to show up. I don't know about you, but I'm not going to jail. You're too pretty; you'll be someone's bitch the moment you step into that place."

"This isn't funny Kevin," I glared.

"I know it's not, so we can't treat it like a game." He grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me to face him. I blinked back tears that burned with rage and fear. "Do you want to go to jail for murder Shane? You'll be there for life, your mom will be left alone, and so will your sister. Think about all the shit everyone will give your mom for having a son committed for murder? Do you think they'll ever let her live it down?"

"No…"

"And imagine what she'll say, how she'll look when she finds out? Do you want to remember that face for the rest of your life while you're in jail?" An image of her face, betrayed, hurt and terrified all because of another mistake I made came to mind and I flinched.

"No…"

"So we have to do something. If someone did hear, they called the police and they're probably on their way. Make a choice Shane, a life in jail on the death sentence or go home and curl up in bed and pretend none of this happened?"

I looked away from him, and down at the bodies. Their blood pools were touching each other now. "Where will we burry them?"

"The park."

We had to move quickly, Kevin was right; the police could be here at any second. Kevin grabbed Mark by the ankles and I crouched and scooped him up under the arms. He was heavy and his skin was getting cold. I pursed my lips together, trying to make my stomach be still. We put him in the trunk of Kevin's car, face down. We had to shove away some of the crap that was in there, throw out a few wrappers and a blanket to make enough room. We lifted and carried Dean next; he was lighter so it was easier getting him in the trunk, face up.

"Whoa," Kevin breathed. I looked down and saw Dean's eyes were open, looking right at us. Hesitantly, I reached into the trunk and closed Dean's eyes like I saw them do to my grandpa when he died. Only he died of a heart attack, not a gun shot wound to the head by his own friends.

Kevin shut and locked the trunk while I grabbed a towel he had in his car and tried to mop up some of the blood off the cement. "Leave it Shane," he hissed. I complied and ran over and jumped in the car, throwing the towel in the grass as I did. Kevin revved the engine and peeled out as quickly as he could.

I looked down at my hands and saw all the blood and wiped them on my jeans as hard as I could. I cranked down the window and leaned out my head to suck in fresh air and settle my stomach.

"You're bleeding," Kevin said, taking a sharp turn. I looked down at myself and saw my shirt was soaked in blood, parts of it starting to dry.

"It's not my blood…"

We stopped at Kevin's house and snuck in the backyard. We had to crawl under the window because his grandma had fallen asleep on the couch watching TV, we didn't want her to see us. Once we were in the clear, we stood up and ran to the shed. Kevin undid the lock and disappeared, while I stood by the door, listening for the sound of sirens chasing us. He reappeared with two shovels and two giant nap sacks, pushing them into my hands.

I took them while he locked up the shed and handed half of it to him and we hurried back to the car. I tossed the stuff in the back seat and slammed the door closed behind me before we were off again.

I kept my eyes on the road ahead of us, not wanting to look back, but Kevin continued to throw nervous glances in the rear view mirror. Kevin ran the red light and a car honked at us as we sped through the dark streets.

Finally, we reached the park and parked the car in the looping parking lot. But there was another car parked there, I recognized the red BMW.

"Get rid of them," Kevin nodded to them as he walked around to the back to the trunk. I started over to the car, my hands were shaking and I knew I looked like a mess. Tear stains on my face, bloody shirt and pants. But it was night time and there weren't any street lamps here, Kevin had picked a good place.

I went up to the driver's window and leaned in, crossing my arms on the door. There were two girls in the car, the one in the passenger seat was crying and the other was comforting her. I didn't stop to make sure she was okay, my heart was pounding.

"Hey baby," I breathed, not trusting my voice.

"Do you mind?" The girl driving asked. "We're kinda talking."

"Why don't you put that mouth to work on me," I smiled, but inside I was screaming.

"You're a creep," she hissed, revving the engine and backing away. I stood up, watching them drive away, wishing I was with them and not here. When they were gone, I jogged back over to Kevin. He had the trunk open, facing the trees.

"Are they gone?" He asked his voice even.

"Yeah." He nodded and handed me a shovel, reached into the trunk and pulled out a flash light and then closed the trunk again.

"We need to dig the hole before we take them out," he said. Wordlessly, I followed him into the forest, following the beam of the flashlight that Kevin pointed carefully downward.

We walked deep into the forest, about two long, nerve-wracking miles, we finally stopped.

"Is this far enough?" I asked.

"It'll have to be," Kevin nodded. We set down the flashlight between two rocks and picked up our shovels. As the spade of my shovel pierced the earth, I felt something in me shift. I had killed someone, and now I was going to burry him in the park. I shoved the shovel down into the earth, pushing my weight on it and hoisting it up and made sure to not dump the dirt too close to the hole. Neither of us spoke, it was as silent as the dead.

The hole started to grow and so did the shovel loads. My hands started to ache and so did my shoulders but I stayed silent and so did Kevin. We hardly looked at each other, only aware of the other because of our peripherals. The hole started getting deep enough that I had to lift the shovel up and out of the hole to dump the dirt.

I couldn't even see the flashlight beam anymore, and I prayed no one else did.

Finally, covered in dirt and aching, the hole was just over our heads. I tossed my shovel out of the hole and grabbed the sides. It was harder to pull myself out than it would have been another day, but I dug my shoes into the walls and climbed out. I sat back and looked at the hole, as Kevin was doing. Then we looked at each other.

"We're really doing this," Kevin huffed, dirt smeared on his face.

"What other option we do have?" I grunted, getting up to my feet and grabbing the shovel. We left the flashlight where it was so we could find our way back and started back to the car.

There was no road into the forest and there were too many trees for Kevin's car to fit. We had to carry the bodies. First up, was Dean. After double checking that no one was around, we started carrying his body into the woods.

This time it was slower getting back to the hole with Dean but we found the hole easily marked by the flashlight. Kevin set down his ankles to unroll the nap sac, leaving me to hold up Dean by his shoulders. His chin was resting on his chest, the bullet hole in his head pointing up at me. I tried to avoid looking at it while Kevin stepped over his body and started putting the nap sac over Dean's head. I had to let go once Kevin got far enough and I helped put it down over his chest and scooted him up further inside.

Dean's feet were still sticking out of the bottom of the sac, even when we tied it.

"We could just cut them off," Kevin opted.

"Shut up, Kevin," I growled.

"It was a joke." We grabbed the sac and dragged it over to the hole. "Ready?" Kevin breathed, grabbing a handful of the sac. I nodded and at the same time, we shoved Dean, letting him roll into the hole and hit the bottom with a thud. I took a few deep breathes before we went back to the car to redo the entire thing.

Mark was even heavier than Dean; either because we were exhausted or just because he happened to be heavier, I don't know. We got him to the hole and fitted the sac over him, easier this time now that we knew what to do. Luckily, Mark was shorter so he fit completely inside of the sac. Again, we dragged him over to the hole, counted to three and rolled him in.

His body hit Dean's with a bone crunching sound, I tried not to throw up. We once again grabbed the shovels and started to fill in the hole. When the dirt hit the sacs, they made a brushing sound. It set my nerves on end and I listened hard, we were making too much noise, someone would hear and come investigate. And what if they did? Would we kill them too?

But finally, the sacs were covered and dirt hit dirt. We worked quickly, trying to fill in the hole and get the hell out of there. As I dropped in the dirt, I scooped dirt along with it, trying to make it go faster. My arms were screaming and blisters were forming on my hands. But the hole was nearly done. Headlights flared and I froze.

I squinted to see through the trees and saw that it was just a car making a U turn in the park's parking lot. When the car left, I sighed heavily and went back to work. The last pile of dirt was thrown on top and we stomped on it, trying to flatten it. Kevin grabbed a bunch of leaves, twigs and a stump and tried covering the freshly turned earth.

"We're finished," Kevin announced, wiping sweat off of his face.

"At least with this part," I mumbled. It felt like we should say something, but what could you say? Sorry I shot you, have a nice after life. But we didn't move, instead we stayed still and stared at our handy work, shovels in hand. After a few minutes, Kevin clapped my shoulder.

"It's time to leave, the suns coming up soon."

Kevin dropped me off at my house a few minutes later. I stood on my front porch and looked at the sky, it was turning light. I turned around and hurried inside. I took my shoes off and carried them with me up the stairs and into my room. I stripped down to my boxers, and shoved them into a garbage bag. Then after a second thought, I pulled off my boxers and put them in the bag too. I threw the bag in the back of my closet and grabbed a towel off the floor and wrapped it around my hips.

Everyone was still asleep, so I crossed the hall as quietly as I could and turned on the shower. As the water heated, I stared at myself in the mirror. I had dirt smeared on my face and on my neck, my eyebrows wouldn't relax, they were scrunched together over my wide eyes. Under my jaw, was a spot of blood but that was nothing compared to the splash of red across my stomach that must have seeped through my shirt.

I jumped into the shower quickly, turning the water on as hot as it could go, burning my skin. I grabbed the body wash and squeezed the soap all over me, trying to wash away what I had just done. Dirt and blood tainted water swirled around the drain. I backed up under the flow of water, letting it run over my face and back. My chest tightened suddenly, cutting off my air, making me gasp and I began to cry. I cried hard, my tears mixing in with the water over my face. I turned and punched the tile wall and slid to the ground. I titled my head back against the wall, looking up at the water stained ceiling.

What was I going to do now?

Someone kicked my door hard once, waking me up. "Mom says you can't sleep all day," Samantha announced. I groaned and rolled over, pulling a pillow down over my head.

That was basically how my day went. Samantha or my mom would come knock or kick my door for me to wake up, but I would just slide down further in my bed and go back to sleep. Or I would try to go back to sleep and end up staring blankly at the wall, repeating the night over and over in my head. The blast, how the gun hit me in the stomach and I thought I had been shot. But it was Mark who had been shot, not me. And how one second, Dean was on his feet, running at me when suddenly he was down, dead.A few days ago, I was on the phone with Dean and now I had buried him. Six feet under ground in a park in a nap sac under some guy I had tormented once.

I had heard Samantha walking down the hall in her cleats and she knocked on my door. "Mom wants you out of bed for dinner and she says you have to go to school tomorrow. I'm going to soccer practice. Can I use your car?"

"Sure," I mumbled. There was a pause on the other side of the door.

"R—really?" She sounded surprised.

"Whatever." Then she was hurrying away before I could change my mind. I listened to the sound of my car fading away and went back to sleep.

I woke up a few hours later and saw that it was night time already. My stomach growled at me so I got up out of bed and dragged myself down the stairs. The TV was on and I could see mom sitting on the couch with a drink in her hand.

"There you are," she smiled at me. Her makeup was smeared under her eyes, she had been crying.

"What's wrong?" My heart pounded.

"Nothing sweetheart," she smiled again. "Is everything okay? You've been sleeping all day….Did you go to another party?"

"No," I shook my head and turned away from her, opening the fridge.

"Dinners still in the oven," she called out. "I wish you would put on some clothes, Shane."

"What are you talking about? I'm wearing clothes."

"Your underwear is not clothes." I felt my jaw clamp and I instantly tuned her out and grabbed a plate from the cupboard. "Your school called earlier."

I sighed. "And?"

"They say you missed your last two classes three days in a row last week." She drank from her glass, the ice sliding forward.

"So?" I could feel her eyes on me, her next words were slow.

"…Why didn't you go?" I shrugged and forked a steak out of the oven and slapped it on my plate. I heard her stand up and put her glass on the counter as she walked over to me. I didn't look at her, just stabbed my steak with my fork, no longer hungry. I felt her hand, warm and motherly on my back, I closed my eyes when a knot formed in my throat.

"Sweetie." She was on the verge of tears again. "Why do you have so many holes in your ears?"

"I like it," I mumbled, not even thinking about all the stupid fucking earrings I was wearing.

"And your eyebrow?"

"I like it," I repeated. I coughed, clearing my throat, turning my face away from her so she couldn't see me cry. With her other hand, she grabbed my shoulder and turned me around to face her. She wasn't a short woman, maybe five feet nine inches, five-ten at the most. I looked at her green eyes, the reddish gold hair that reached her shoulders and how her make up was smeared. Slowly, hesitatingly, she pulled me in closer to her and hugged me. I practically melted into her, wrapping my arms around her and hugging her back though part of me wanted to shove her back and yell at her. I would have, any other day. She surprised me by crying, hard long sobs that shook her.

I didn't know what to do, I never comforted people and I hated it when they tried to comfort me. I just sort of stood there, my arms around her, trying not to cry about what a horrible son I was to her, all the pain I had and would cause her once she found out.

"Shane, please. Just tell me what I did wrong!" She sobbed against my shoulder. "Tell me why you hate me so much!"

"You didn't do anything," I craned my head away from her. She held on tighter.

"Then what's wrong?" Fed up, I pushed her back, breaking her hold on me.

"You wouldn't understand," I told her. It was true.

"Yes I will," she nodded, clasping her hands in front of her. "Just tell me and I promise I'll fix it."

"You can't fix everything mom!" My voice rose, scratching against the knot in my throat. "You think you can, but you can't mom! Not everything can be fixed by hugs and kisses. Something's aren't that easy mom!"

"I can try Shane, really I can," she reached out to touch me but I pulled away. "What can I do to make you happy?"

"Nothing, okay?" I dropped my voice, feeling it shake as I got angrier. "You can't do anything. Just leave me alone." I whirled around, grabbing my plate and smashing it in the sink. I pushed past her and stormed back into my room, locking the door.

I was shaking, I was going to loose it. But this time, I didn't want to throw things around my room, screaming that I hated everyone and hope they died. I went to the other side of my bed and reached under my mattress. I found the baggie and can of spray paint easily. No one was running after me, no one was pounding on my door. I shook the can, hearing the little metal piece inside clank before I aimed the nozzle into the baggie and squeezed it down. White paint covered the plastic baggie, fumes rising. I dropped the can and pressed the baggie to my mouth and nose, breathing in deeply. I didn't stop until my lungs felt like they were going to burst.

I dropped the baggie beside me and tilted my head back against my bed. Everything was spinning, my eyes rolled in their sockets, everything tilted…everything….


	4. Gardening

Chapter. 4. Gardening.

The next morning, I woke up on my floor beside my bed with a migraine. I groaned, sitting up and pressing my palm against my forehead.

"Damn," I moaned. I pushed the spray can away from me and pulled myself up to my feet. I felt like shit, my nose burned and my head throbbed. When I swallowed, it felt like I had drank acid. It was freezing, there was ice on my window but the sky was blue.

I went to my closet and pulled on a long sleeve black shirt and some socks before unlocking my door and leaving my room. I could hear voices from down stairs, they were light, laughing voices. I slumped down the stairs, thudding as I did. I walked around the wall and into my dinning room and saw Kevin sitting at the table with my mom and sister.

"There you are," Tracy said from the table. "We're having an early dinner. Kevin came by." Kevin looked up and smirked at me.

"What time is it?" I gargled.

"Four in the afternoon," Tracy said. "I let you miss school." Samantha turned around in her chair and gaffed.

"You look like shit." Tracy snapped at her so Samantha rolled her eyes and turned back around.

"Kevin," I grunted, pointing at the hall limply, not knowing how to say it. He got up out of his chair and we walked down the hall so they couldn't hear. "What are you doing here?"

"Dude, listen," he looked down the hall and lowered his voice. "While you've been here sleeping and…" he looked closer at my face, my eyes. "Snorting paint fumes, I have been in the forest planting these." He pulled something out of his pocket. It was a pack of seeds with a picture of corn.

"Corn, you've been planting corn?" I frowned, taking the pack and looking at it. "Good for you Redenbacher."

"Listen," he repeated, rolling his eyes and taking the pack from me. "I planted them all over the forest, in thick clumps. The roots will go down and keep the dirt packed tight so our little problem doesn't come floating to the surface when it floods again."

"Wouldn't it look weird to have a patch of corn Kevin?"

"That's why I planted them all over the forest dip shit," he shook the pack at me. "Sure, it'll be strange at first but even if they cut it down, the roots will be in the ground, holding them in place. We're set man!"

"What are we going to do about their parents Kevin?" I groaned, my head was really throbbing.

"They've got to know their sons are dealers," Kevin shrugged. "They'll assume they got hit on a job."

"And investigate."

"Sure, we might get asked questions, they might suspect us. But we were Dean's friends—"

"And what kind of friend would kill their own friend?" I retorted.

"Exactly, now why do you want to go throwing your life away just for a bunch of maybes?" I looked at the pack in his hand and the enthusiasm in his eyes.

"So you think we can pull this off?"

"Definitely, dude," he held up his hand and I clasped my hand to his.

"You better be right Redenbacher." We went back to the table then, I sat at the end of the table, opposite from my mom.

"You boys alright?" Tracy asked, eyeing us.

"Yeah mom," I nodded.

"Good, eat up."

"Yeah man, you're looking thin," Kevin said. I watched as he bit into a husk of yellow corn, winking at me. My stomach rolled.

"I'm not hungry," I muttered.

"Oh, here are your keys." Samantha pulled them from her pocket and tossed them at me. I was too numb to move and catch them, they hit my chest and fell into the soup in front of me. They laughed. "What's with you?"

"Nothin'," I grumbled. I was staring unseeingly at the floor behind her chair. "I don't feel good."

"Maybe it's all that paint you've been sniffing," Samantha sneered.

"Samantha Victoria Monroe," Tracy snapped.

"Victoria?" Kevin gaffed.

"Shut up Kevin," she glared at him and ate her food. I stared down at my plate, my keys floating in my soup, the corn a gruesome reminder, the bread turning hard. I managed to pick my keys out of my soup and drop them on the table next to me. I felt numb. My mind didn't want to be here, it wanted to be somewhere else so I let it. I let it slip away in its own confinements, not bothering to think about anything really. I stared at my food but I didn't see it, I could hear a conversation going on but I didn't really hear it.

"Shane, Shane are you all right?" I looked up and saw everyone was looking at me.

"He has cabin fever," Kevin said, setting down his fork. "Let's go to a movie or something, get you out of the house for a bit."

"Fine. Mom I need money."

"Alright sweetie." She stood up and went to get her purse while I went up stairs to throw on some pants and wash up real quick. I came back down the stairs and saw Tracy and Kevin talking. My mom looked up from their conversation and grinned at me. "Here you go." She handed me the money and I took it wordlessly.

"Well we're leaving," Kevin elbowed me and I followed him out of the house. "Smooth Shane." He lit a cigarette as we walked.

"What are you talking about?"

"Would you stop moping? If you keep it up, your mom is going to know something happened." He took a long drag on his cigarette and then handed it to me. I took it and glanced at his car, parked in front of mine.

"Let's take my car."

"Fine."

We took my car to the movie theater the next town over, listening to music and smoking cigarettes like old times. When I parked the car at the theater, we didn't get out at first. Instead we pulled out a few joints I stuck in the ash tray, lit up and listened to music.

I don't know what was said that was so funny or what happened, but I started to laugh. I laughed and laughed and then I started laughing at my laughing about laughing. Kevin gave me a funny look that made me crack up and then he started laughing.

When we calmed down enough, we got out of the car and went up to the ticket booth. We paid for some action movie that I never even seen the previews for and went to go get popcorn and sit down, a few chuckles escaping.

The movie was alright, hella shitty effects and not enough naked chicks for my taste but whatever. We ate our popcorn, laughing at how lame the movie was and pissed a few people off.

"Shut up and watch the movie," I told the man who turned around for the second time to 'Shh' us. I threw popcorn at his bald spot and he and his wife stood up and moved a few rows down. "What if this was all a movie?"

"Huh?" Kevin looked at me, his blue eyes confused.

"What if in an hour or two, our problems would be solved and everything could go back to normal. Like it's all pretend, we're just in costume and makeup reciting lines."

"You're fucked up man," Kevin laughed. "You don't make sense." I shrugged and looked back at the screen, I made perfect sense.

After the movie, we decided that it was too early so we went to the arcade to blow a few bucks on games. Kevin went to go stomp around on the DDR machine while I played the old Pacman game. An arm wrapped around my waist and then a second later, a face appeared on my shoulder.

"I haven't talked to you in a while," she purred in my ear. I turned and saw Caitlyn Brown hanging on me. I remember—hardly—hooking up with her a few times at a party a few months ago. She had heavy eyeliner on to mimic the slants of a cat, it made her eyes look weird.

"Hey Caitlyn," I said, going back to my game. The little yellow Pacman ate the last blinking ghost and the machine started beeping. I typed in my name while Caitlyn stood on her tip toes to see over my shoulder. I hit OKAY and the whole screen sort of swirled, making me trip out for a second, before the words: HIGH SCORES appeared and a list of names, mine was on top. "Cool," I shrugged.

"I had forgotten how good you are with your hands," she smiled up at me, wrapping both of her arms around me.

"You remember," I argued.

"It's been a while," she shrugged, pouting.

"Yeah it has been."

"Refresh my memory."

"I'm busy, what do you want?" She sighed, letting me go.

"Fine, but here. You know this kid right, Mark Stacie?" I froze and I saw Kevin look over. Caitlyn was handing me something, a flyer from a stack she held in one hand. It was light blue with Mark's school photo slapped on front. It had a description of him, a number to call, and a short detail of the last time he as seen. The words: Last seen getting into a Toyota heading to a friend's house. Went missing shortly after were printed under his picture.

"No, I don't—"

"Mark Stacie? Yeah we know him," Kevin appeared, taking a flyer while I stared at him. "We were supposed to hang out with him and Dean that night, but they flaked. Stupid assholes."

"Well he's missing," she scowled.

"Hence the fliers that say missing," Kevin glared back.

"So where do they think he is?" I cut in. Caitlyn let out a heavy sigh, blowing her bangs out of her face and shrugged.

"Anywhere. He had a basketball game coming up that he was stoked about, no one thinks he just ran away."

"So they think he was abducted?"

"Like aliens?" Kevin's eyes got real wide and he whirled around to me suddenly, one hand on my shoulder and the other covering his mouth. "Our cows! I've got to warn Aunt May—to the bat mobile!" My mouth pulled up in a half grin but I felt sick.

"This is serious," Caitlyn told him.

"What and you don't think I am?" Kevin frowned. "I really do have a bat mobile, its parked outside if you wanna go see…" He half way turned, pointing to the parking lot.

"You guys are such jerks." She stormed away, clutching the flyers in her hands tightly.

"Hate to see her leave, love to watch her go," Kevin said to me, loud enough so she could hear. She flipped him off without turning around. He slapped the flyer on my stomach. "Come on Batman, before Aunt May flies away in a hot air balloon wearing my sneakers."

"You're so warped," I chuckled dryly, following him to the parking lot.

It was silent in the car as Kevin read the flyer a few times. Half way home he said, "Pull over and let's toke."

"Alright." I pulled over to the shoulder of the high way and Kevin climbed in the back, throwing stuff around. I cut the engine but kept the dashboard lights going as Kevin found my bong and climbed back to the front seat. He expertly fixed it with the content of my glove compartment and then grabbed his lighter and took his hit.

When he was finished, he handed it to me and I took mine. We did that for a few minutes, just passing the bong, taking hits and holding our breath on the side of the highway.

"We're so screwed," Kevin laughed, leaning his head against the head rest and looking at the roof of the car. He laughed again. "We're seriously screwed."

"Yeah," I laughed, putting the bong in a cup holder. "Fuck." We both laughed. "I can't believe you planted corn on their bodies."

"I know," Kevin nodded, cracking up. "That's so fucked."

"I don't think I can ever eat corn again," I laughed, putting my hands on the steering wheel.

"Me neither." Kevin sucked in air; his face was turning red from laughing. "What if some fat ass cow got hungry and ate the corn?"

"That would be fucked up," I laughed. Kevin punched the roof of the car, grabbing his sides as he laughed.

"They come walking into town, corn stalks hanging from their mouths and they're dragging two dead bodies," he motioned to the both of us. "And we're the ones who put them in the ground."

"Yeah. Damn." Red and blue lights flashed in my rear view. Kevin and I twisted around, looking out the back window at the squad car parked behind us, on my side. "Oh shit."

"Hide the bong," Kevin said, snatching it and shoving it between his side of the door and his seat. He cracked the window a little bit to let out the smoke and I grabbed the eye drops from the dash board and shot the stuff in my eyes. Kevin took it from me and put it in his.

"Shit, shit," I swore, grabbing my wallet out of my pocket. "Fuck."

"Shut up and get your shit." A door shut and we looked to see a policeman walking over to us. "Let's kill him."

"What?!" I snapped my head up, gaping at his serious face.

"I'm just kidding man," he laughed.

"Dude, shut up." The policeman tapped my window and I cranked it down. "Hey."

"Hey," the cop mimicked. "What are you doin'?"

"Car trouble," I blurted. He shined the light in my face, making me squint.

"You high boy?"

"No sir." No fucking shit! I thought.

"Pop the hood." I complied and he walked around to the front of the car and lifted the hood.

"Hit the gas," Kevin whispered. "Run his ass over."

"Would you just fucking shut the hell up Kevin?" I pushed him away from me.

"Joking, duh. I wouldn't kill him…I'd wait at least a week." He busted out laughing again, slumping against the car door.

"You're an asshole." The policeman slammed the hood closed and walked back over to me.

"Nothing seems to be wrong. Let me see your license." I handed him my ID, already in my hand. He put it under his flashlight, squinting down at it. "Hold on." He clicked on the walkie talkie on his shoulder, walking away. "This is Officer Stacie…." He got to his car and sat down in his driver's seat.

"Fuck, we're screwed," I groaned. Kevin turned to stare.

"Officer Stacie?"

"Yeah!" I spat. "That's Mark's fucking dad!" The last time I had seen Officer Stacie was the morning after we messed with Mark and his dad came storming over to my house, ready to arrest my ass.

"No shit?" He looked back again. "Dude that is his dad! God we're screwed."

"Stop saying we're screwed," I shoved him back in his seat. Officer Stacie was walking back to my car then, waving me out of the car. I swore silently and got out of the car, Kevin too. Officer Stacie's partner, a black guy, came over with handcuffs. We're screwed.

"Hands on the car." They told us. Kevin and I shared a look before turning around and setting our hands on the car, feet apart. They searched us, taking out a few lighters from both of us. Kevin had a few pills on him, a pocket knife, and an eighth of pot. From me they pulled out a few joints, a condom, and some extra wood chips I had forgotten was in there.

Officer Stacie wrenched my arms behind me and slapped on the metal cuffs that hurt like a bitch. They told me my rights and dragged my ass back to the squad car, throwing us both in the back and getting in front.

Sitting with your hands handcuffed behind your back while bouncing around on the highway is not comfortable. I winced a few times, trying to sit forward. The two officers were mumbling about something, drowned out by the scanner that spit out information about local grocery stores getting busted or a speeding car on the other part of the highway. I looked over when Kevin grunted and saw him sitting on his hands, trying to get them out from under him so they were in front of him.

"What are you doing?" I hissed.

"Going to give these boys a little Shanghai surprise," he grunted again.

"No talking back there," the black cop hit the grate between us with his nightstick.

"Don't," I whispered.

We reached the station then and they dragged us in. We got our mug shots taken, they wrote down our names, and finger printed us before throwing us in a cell. I leaned my forehead against the bars while Kevin sat on the bench, his back against the wall, his leg on the bench.

"Well," he clicked his tongue. "This is a buzz killer." I ignored him.

Did they know? Were we suspects?

We waited for about an hour in that cell. I paced a little, sitting down on the bench before getting up and pacing again. "Would you sit still?" Kevin groaned, holding his stomach. "You're giving me motion sickness."

I sat back down on the bench with a heavy sigh. They had taken all our metal and even our shoe laces. My watch, earrings and eyebrow ring were sitting in a plastic tub with my shoe laces and my belt, along with Kevin's crap. Everything that had been found in our pockets, even my condom, was confiscated and put on record.

"This sucks," Kevin groaned. He really didn't look good, his skin was pale and kinda green.

"Yeah," I agreed. "Do you think we'll get the death sentence?"

"Possibly," he shrugged, sitting up. "Will you be my bitch?" I laughed but it was without humor.

"Just don't drop the soap."

"You're a freak," he laughed. Officer Stacie walked over then, unlocking the door.

"Kevin Stanley, Shane Monroe, you're parents are here."

"Nana?" Kevin frowned, getting up too quick. He swooned and I caught him, steadying him.

"Is he going to be okay?" Officer Stacie asked with a blank face and a blank tone.

"Yeah. Come on Kevin." I walked him out of the cell and down the hall. Samantha looked up from the water fountain and wiped her mouth.

"You guys are screwed." Why was everyone saying that?

"Shane?" I looked over and saw Tracy standing up and walking over, Kevin's grandma behind her with her walker. She put her hands on my face, looking at me closely. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm fine, nothing happened," I pulled away from her.

"You mister, are in big trouble," Rosalie said, swinging her purse at Kevin.

"Okay nana, okay," Kevin held up his hands in defense.

"We had a little car trouble mom," I lied. "Ran out of gas so we just parked the car and they picked us up."

"Right," Officer Stacie rolled his eyes. "They have a court date in a few weeks, if he can't make it, give me a call."

"Thank you officer," Tracy nodded. I walked out, not caring where I was going or who was following.

"Shane, get back here!" Tracy called out a second later. I stopped in the middle of the dark parking lot and turned to face her. She had a large envelope in her hands. "Don't just walk away from me. Why didn't you call me? I would've picked you up."

"I thought you were working," I lied.

"You knew I had the day off." I shrugged. "This is your stuff." She handed me the envelope. "Get in the car."

"Shotgun!" Samantha shouted. Any other day I would've told her to sit on the roof but tonight I let her have the front seat and squeezed in the back.

It was quiet in the car, even Samantha kept her mouth shut as we rode home. When we got there, I got out and had planned to go straight to my room but my mom stopped me. "I called your father."

"You did what?!" I whirled around. "Why did you do that?!"

"I don't know what to do anymore Shane!" She shouted, throwing her purse down on the counter. "You're out of control, you do drugs, you don't go to school every day, and you lie and steal from me—"

"I don't steal from you."

"—Yes you do, you stole my credit card and fifty dollars from me. You don't listen to me, you have an anger problem son. You have a lot of problems, you need help, help I can't give you."

"Yeah? Then what did he say? 'I'll send a check in the mail will that make you happy Tracy?' or 'He's your problem, you deal with him.' Or my favorite 'what the hell do I care? I left because of him, remember?'."

"You…you knew he said those things?" She backpedaled

"Of course I did mom! I'm not fucking retarded."

"No one said you were retarded Shane."

"Then what mom?" I cried. "What the fuck do you want from me? I'm not perfect, I'm not Samantha. I'm sorry I'm not the son you've always dreamed of, I'm sorry I'm such a fuck up that you can hardly even look at me let alone stand me. I'm sorry I can't be like him!" I threw out my hand in a gesture to my father.

"I don't want you to be like him Shane!" She was crying too now.

"What do you want from me?" I sobbed, my throat getting tight.

"I want you to be happy, that's all I ask for!"

"Then leave me the fuck alone! I can't be happy here mom. Sometimes I want to fucking strangle you and Samantha, sometimes I just want you two to die and never talk to me again!"

"Why do you have to say such hurtful things?" She covered her face with her hands.

"Because they're true. I hate this, I can't stand this!" I stormed up the stairs and slammed my door. I sort of shuffled my feet in the middle of my room, not knowing what to do and grabbing my hair. I kicked my speaker and crawled into bed, crying and smothering my face with my pillow.


	5. Rivals

Chapter. 5. Rivals.

I could hear voices, either whispering or they were far away I couldn't tell. I didn't like the voices, they made me angry. I opened my eyes and saw an upside down image of my mother and my father standing at the foot of my bed. That was why. I turned over onto my stomach, getting off my bed quickly.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I demanded. "How did you get in my room?" I looked behind them and saw my door had been taken off the hinges. How did that not wake me?

"Son, your mother called me last night—"

"Get out of my room, get the fuck out of my house," I demanded again.

"You don't need to swear Shane," my father reached out to touch me.

"Don't touch me," I pulled away sharply. "And don't try your creepy psychiatrist bullshit on me."

"Shane, I called Rick last night asking for him to take you for a few months," Tracy explained.

"It'll be good for you son," my father said.

"Stop with this son crap," I glared. "You don't give a shit about me, you left because—of—me—remember? You wouldn't care if I ended up buried in some forest, don't try your tricks on me Rick."

"I just needed a break Shane, that doesn't mean I don't love you," he shook his head. He was wearing some fancy suit with cufflinks and his thin, wire framed glasses, and I doubted he even needed glasses. He probably used them so he could seem superior to his patients.

"Yeah? Bullshit! Neither one of you care about me, you can't stand me so you pawn me off on each other."

"That's not true!" My mom shook her head. "We do care Shane! We love you so much, that's why we're doing this."

"Come live with me for a few months, get a break from everything, school and everything else." My father persuaded.

"There is no fucking way I'm moving in with you," I stepped back from them.

"Look at this Shane." He didn't yell, shrinks couldn't yell, couldn't loose their cool, he rose his voice instead. He was gesturing to my room. "This is disgusting, I see a bong, spray cans, liquor bottles and trash everywhere. Is this where you want to end up Shane? Is this how you want to live your life?"

"What does it matter to you how I want to live my life Rick? What about those eleven years that you weren't here? That you weren't here for me, what about those?"

"I've always been here for you son," he held out his arms like he was Jesus or something. "I just never knew how badly you needed my help."

"Yeah?" I stepped up into his face, I saw my mom recoil. I spoke through my teeth, hoping I spit on him. "I don't need your help."

"It's either live with me or end up in prison Shane," he shrugged, still cool.

"I'll end up in prison even if I moved in with you."

"Why is that Shane? Is it because you hate me and my family? Because you want to kill us, is that it Shane? What did my family ever do to you?"

"Shut the fuck up," I growled. Damn, he had me crying.

"Get your things packed, the train leaves in an hour." He turned and walked towards the door.

"I'm not going anywhere with you, if I pack I'm never coming back."

"If you're not on that train with me in one hour, I'm calling the cops," he warned and then he was walking down the hall.

"Please Shane," Tracy begged. "Just spend some time with him, I promise you can come home."

"What about my court day mom?" I stepped over to her, not trying to intimidate her, I just needed to be close to her. "I have to be there."

"I spoke to Officer Stacie this morning, he called the police in your father's district. You have to go see them tomorrow morning to set up a new court date and community service hours with them."

"No mom," I shook my head, still crying. "Please mom, don't make me go. Please. I'll be good, I promise. I'll stop doing drugs, I'll go to school and I'll go to church with you every Sunday. Just please mom, I hate him; don't let me go live with him. Please mom!"

"I'm sorry," she turned away from me and went towards the door, stopping and turning around. "You have forty-five minutes to pack everything, you'll take the train with Rick to Bodega Bay. Pack your things, and please Shane. No drugs."

And then she was leaving me too.

"Goddamn it," I kicked my bed. If I ran away, they would call the cops. The longer I stayed with the police, the longer I'll feel guilty. If they kept seeing me in trouble, I would be on the top of their suspect list for Dean and Mark going missing. I began to pack.

Half an hour later, I was dragging my stuff down the stairs with me. Mom and Rick stood up from the couch, looking relieved.

"After three months I'm moving back," I told them.

"Whatever it takes," Rick nodded. My mom walked over and did the mushy goodbye but I wouldn't look at her. I left the house without saying a word to her and threw my shit in my trunk. Kevin must have dropped it off and took his car back because it was gone.

I got in the drivers side as Rick opened the passengers side door, something glass clattered to the floor. He picked it up, it was my bong. He made a face, threw it in the back and got in.

"Nice car," he snorted.

"Thanks, I hawked a watch I stole from you when I was ten and used the money to buy it." I felt him staring at me as I drove, remembering the exact watch that went missing. We got to the station and got our tickets just as the train was leaving. I let my bags bang into the walls as I climbed up the thin, turning stair case to the upper level and then whack people's head as the train swayed. Rick sighed but remained silent until we got to our seats. I sat across from him, throwing my shit up in the over head bins and sat down, looking out the window.

"Christy and Davie are excited to have you move in," he said as the train left the city.

"Sure, I'll bet she greats me with wet thighs," I rolled my eyes.

"Shane," he sighed heavily through his nose. "Please, while you're at my house, none of that kind of talking. Alright? For your brother's sake."

"Half brother," I corrected. "But sure, whatever. Rick."

"Thanks. And would you please not call me Rick?"

"Fine, but I'm not calling you dad."

"You can call me whatever you like, just not Rick," he said.

"Fine, can I call you Dick?" He grinned, clasping his hands together.

"If you wish."

"Fine. Dick, how much longer until we get to your place?" He checked his watch.

"A few hours, four maybe."

"Thanks…Dick."

We were quiet after that, he went to go get some food and I stayed and watch everything role by. Houses I recognized, my school, the gym and the mall all going in the opposite direction.

I should call Kevin and let him know that I was being Dick napped and to take his meds, lay low for a while. He didn't look too good last night, he was probably still sleeping, and I'd call him tonight. If his grandma gave him the message, he would call me back, she never really did like me. I didn't blame her.

The forest came up next and I thought about Dean and Mark, buried under corn. Almost three days had passed since we killed them, I wondered what kind of condition they were in but then pushed the image from my mind. Hopefully, that corn kept them buried and no one would ever find out that I killed them. I didn't want to think about my best friend rotting anymore, instead I got up and went to the food cart. My father was there, talking to the hot chick behind the counter.

I grabbed a brown, plastic tray and filled it with food. I hadn't eaten much in the last few days and I was starving. I filled up a cup with coffee and put it on my tray, they were still talking. I slid my tray across the counter, making it bump into my father's, my coffee splashed on his sandwich. He didn't freak, he only gave me a stern look.

"Is that your son?" The lady asked politely in a drawl.

"Only our DNA is the same," I muttered.

"Yes, he is my son, his name is Shane."

"Hi Shane, I'm Carla."

"Hi." Carla rang up our bill and I went to go sit down before I fell on my face with the stupid fucking train swaying and saw that It had followed me. Rick sat across from me and started opening his sugar packets.

"That's a lot of food, are you that hungry?"

"That's a lot of sugar, do you want a heart attack?" I retorted.

"You first," he grinned.

"You paid for it right?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Then I'm this hungry. You go," I picked up my coffee and sipped it.

"I like my coffee sweet," he shrugged, pouring the sugar in. "I have one more question for you."

"Shoot." I tried not to flinch.

"Your mother said you've been acting…stranger than usual lately—"

"That's not a question, that's an insult," I pointed out.

"Let me finish. Was it because you heard about your friend Dan?"

"Dean?" I corrected. "Uh—what do you mean?" I coughed.

"You didn't hear? Your friend Dean's been missing for the last two days." He was watching me with his psychiatrist eyes, taking in every detail of my face like I was some head case….Maybe I was.

"And a boy named Mark; they think something horrible has happened to them."

"Yeah, I heard last night. I thought you meant they found them," I shrugged, playing the fool. "What do you mean 'horrible'?"

"Well, I'm sure you know, but those boys were drug dealers. Anything could have happened to them."

"Huh," I nodded.

"You don't—"

"Dick, I don't want to talk about it anymore. Just drop it." He did and we ate in silence. I only ate about a quarter of the food on my tray and when I was done, I push it into his tray and went back to my seat. A few minutes later, he followed, coffee cup in hand.

"You're not supposed to bring food onto this cart," I reminded him.

"Since when were you ever one to follow the rules, Shane?" He sat down and pulled out a computer case. I ignored him and rested my head on the window that was ice freaking cold. He unzipped the case and took out a laptop, one of those thin, silver flashy kinds. He started typing away, sipping his coffee and checking his watch. In the reflections of his glasses, I could see a few different screens open but no information on what he was doing.

"Would you like to check your e-mail?"

"No."

"I wasn't really asking."

"What the fuck does that mean?" I asked, confused.

"I was testing your responses and their timing. I ask you a question, you fire a response back without much of a thought. Your only goal is to push me away and close yourself off, and by being rude you think you're accomplishing this. When really you're only making yourself miserable instead of teaching me some strange lesson about ever trying to be kind to you."

"You're fucking out of your mind," I scoffed, shaking my head in disbelief.

"Between you and me, I seem to be the only one very much in my brain. Don't touch my stuff, especially not my computer—"

"Why Dick?" I cut him off. "Are you worried I'll find something that will make me think less of you? Don't worry, I already know you're a piece of shit."

"Hey," he snapped, still not yelling. "That's not polite."

"Yeah? Suck it, Dick." I grabbed my crotch and looked away from him. Thankfully, that was it for the rest of our communication. He wrote e-mails, replied to e-mail, updated shit and did other shrink shit. He got up one more time to get some coffee, flirt with hick Carla and came back.

The sun was climbing in the sky now, we had been on the train for a few hours and my ass was getting numb. I got up and walked around the cart, swaying with the train and decided to make a trip to the bathroom. The walkway between the stalls was thin as hell but I'm a skinny guy, I got in alright and into the small ass bathroom. It had a toilet and a sink in about a two by two space. I reached into my sock and pulled out a joint and a lighter. I lit up and took a long ass drag, harboring it in my lungs for a few minutes before letting it out of the small flap on the door. Might as well share the joy with everyone else. Lucky bastards.

I stayed in there for a few minutes, smoking and shoving my hand down my pants, trying to make this trip doable. I smoked half the joint, finished with myself and washed my hands in the tiny sink. I put the joint back in my sock, pulled up my pants and left. I wiped my hands on the back of some dude's seat before I went back to my seat and saw that Rick was on the phone.

I plopped down heavily on my chair, dabbing at the beads of sweat on my face and neck while he yapped. The after taste of pot isn't all that good, so I dug through my pockets and found a stick of gum. I chewed on it while I watched him talk. He didn't really look like me, I thought. Maybe my mom got the father's mixed up or something. He was holding the phone in his left hand, his gold wedding band reflecting our seats. He was getting old, in his mid forties, his once black hair was now gray with flecks of white and some black. He had gray eyes that went with his gray hair, his gray suit, his gray computer, his gray attitude, his gray fucking life.

Finally, after a few minutes he said, "I love you too, I'll be home soon. Bye." He snapped his phone shut and met my glare, flinching a little, in surprise I guess. "Christy says hi."

"I bet."

"Your bedroom is having the carpets cleaned today, so for tonight you'll sleep with Davie."

"Are you kidding me? With that snot nosed, sticky handed kid? No thanks, I'll sleep on the lawn."

"Sprinklers go on at five."

"I like a good morning shower." My father sighed, taking off his glasses and closing his eyes for a second. He really did need a break from me.

"Davie really likes you Shane, you're his only big brother, be nice to him. I'll wipe his snotty nose and I bet his hands aren't as sticky as yours are right now." I crossed my arms, balling up my hands.

"You're sick."

"Just one night and then you can have your own room, with a TV and a Queen sized bed. Okay?"

"Whatever pepper head." He frowned but put on his glasses and went back to typing.

When I thought I would go insane sitting on the train, it finally pulled into the Bodega Bay train station. Rick packed up all his stuff and I grabbed my duffle bag and backpack from the over head bin. But once I got to the bottom level and in front of the doors, I didn't move. The sky was too bright, the people looked too fucking happy to see a goddamn train. I wanted to go home. I turned around but my father stopped me. "You can't go back son."

"I've changed my mind, take me home." There was a line now behind him, they were getting annoyed.

"It's either live with me or go to jail."

"I pick jail. Fuck! Give send me to the CIA and have them waterlog me, better that than live with you."

"Can you move out of the way for a minute so I can get by?" A guy behind Rick asked, he looked like he was in college.

"Could you shut the fuck up for a minute?" I retorted and turned back to my father. "Let me go back, I'll do community service, I'll go to court. I don't want to live with you."

"It doesn't work that way, now get out there." He turned me around sharply and shoved me, literally shoved me off the train and onto the platform.

"You did not just push me off a fucking train?!" I gaped at him as he stepped off the train smoothly.

"I think I did," he smirked, walking towards the gate.

"Are you insane? What if we were still moving?!"

"I'm sure you would have rolled to a stop sometime," he called back.

"You're a fucking lunatic Rick."

I followed him to the parking lot where his gray—no shit—Lexus was waiting for us. I sat up front but we didn't talk as we drove through Bodega Bay. I didn't like it. It was too hot, even though it was partially cloudy. There was too many people hogging the side walks, the houses were too big. There was a fucking palm tree by the intersection. Stupid tree, I thought. The road curved and straightened, then curved and went through tunnels as we drove. I thought about the joint in my sock, but if I lit it, Rick would throw a bitch fit.

"Do you remember you step mom?" He asked as we neared his house.

"Barely, I met her once when I was twelve."

"You'll like Christy, she's really smart."

"I hate smart people." I could practically hear him roll his eyes as we took a turn off. Soon, we pulled into a suburb area and Rick parked his car. The lawn was perfectly symmetrical and bright ass fucking green, a walkway cut it in half that lead up to the big, modern house. And there was two palm trees out front.

I got out, taking my stuff and looked at it. There was a lot of goddamn windows, the roof was slanted in a few different places, the paint was white and fresh, even the front door was glass. I pictured myself throwing a rock through it and attacking the class with a BB gun. The next door neighbor to my left was mowing the lawn. He wore khaki shorts and a white polo t-shirt with, a watch that glared in the sun.

"Hi Tom," Dick greeted the man. Tom turned away from the mower and covered his eyes from the sun.

"Hey there Rick, where did you run off to?"

"Had to take care of some things," Rick glanced at me and sort of spoke to the ground in front of his feet. "This is my son Shane." Tom looked at me for the first time and sort of sized me up with a scowl.

"Huh," he grunted. "From the first wife?" He laughed.

My father chuckled. "Yeah."

"Dick, can I go home?"

"No, just stay here for a second," he muttered and turned back to Tom.

"So how long are you staying Shane?" Tom asked in a sort of off hand tone like he was going to run inside to his gold plated calendar and circle the day I leave.

"I'm not."

"He's staying for a few months," Rick ignored me. "Got in some trouble at home, my ex wife thought it best if he came and stayed here."

"Where are you from? Is it far?"

"Not far enough," I said.

The door to his house opened then and a girl walked out in a pair of shorts and a tank top. She had a headband in and her flip flops slapped the ground. She was either my age or a little bit younger, she had a heart shaped face and long, deep burgundy hair. She wasn't tan like I expected most people from here to be, she had a kind of milky skin tone. She had her iPod head phones in, her iPod muzzled down in between her chest. Tom saw me looking at her and sort of started to her, making like he could hide her behind him or something. But I had already seen her.

"Here you go dad," she said, handing him a water bottle. She turned and smiled nicely at my dad. "Hi Mr. Monroe."

"Hello Evelyn," Rick said, his voice sort of tight. He cleared his throat and he and Tom exchanged a look. "Nice weather huh?"

"Yeah, I'd say so," she tilted her head back and looked at the blue sky. She looked back down and her eyes met mine. "Hello, I'm Evelyn McCreedy."

"Hi, I'm Shane Monroe," I grinned. She was really pretty.

"I didn't know you had an older son Mr. Monroe," Evelyn shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked at my father.

"Well, I do," Rick seemed uncomfortable now. "Shane, why don't you go inside?"

"I think I'll stay here," I argued.

"How long are you here for?" Evelyn asked.

"Not long," both our fathers answered at once. I glanced at Rick who was looking at the ground.

"A few months."

"Will you be going to school here then?"

"No," Rick interrupted then.

"Apparently not, Dick's orders," I shrugged.

"Alright, well I guess I'll see you around then." I nodded, glanced at Rick and started up the stairs to his house.

"She seemed nice," I said, very deliberate to my father. He nodded. He led me inside their huge house, and I was surprised. Instead of gray, almost everything was white, with a few splashes of red and orange on the couch, the coffee table and on the walls.

"Christy, I'm—we're home," he called out.

"Rick?" Her voice came from the stairs and soon she was walking into the room wearing a white silk robe with a dress underneath. "How was the trip?" She kissed his cheek and took his brief case.

"Eight hours, almost as silent back as it was there." Christy grinned and turned to me.

"Wow Shane! You've really grown up a lot since I've seen you last."

"Yeah, it happens." She walked over and hugged me while I sort of just stood there, my hands on the duffle bag. She pulled back and turned so she could yell up the stairs.

"Davie, come down here. Your brother is here." I made a face but she didn't see it. There was a light thud from upstairs and then I heard the little one running down the stairs. He turned the corner and I couldn't help but grin. He was wearing jeans and a plain black t-shirt, he had black hair that did the same wavy thing mine did when there wasn't jell in it. He had big huge, blue eyes and dimples in his cheeks.

"Shane!" He ran over to me and hugged my waist.

"Hey kid," I grinned. He stepped back, looking up at me with excitement.

"Are you really moving in?"

I glanced at my step mom and my father. "Seems like it."

"Cool! I'll show you all my favorite hide outs and where they keep the chocolate." They laughed and Christy picked him up.

"He hasn't been quiet since he found out," she explained. "With the Shane this, Shane that. 'Can I bring Shane to school?' 'Can he stay here?' 'I bet we'll be best friend'. It's adorable."

"Yeah."

"Well, Christy will show you where everything is," Rick signed off, kissing Christy and Davie on the cheek before going down the hall.

"Well as you can tell, this is the kitchen and the living room," she pointed out. I pursed my lips and followed her around the house. She pointed out the bathrooms, closets, the garage, the thermostat and some weird home computer thing that I didn't understand at all.

I followed her up the long ass stair case and nodded as she pointed out again, the bathrooms and the bedrooms. "This will be your room once the carpets are done." I stood in the door way and peeked in. It looked like a guest bedroom would. The big bed, white blankets and carpet, whicker chairs, wooden amour, adjoined bathroom, immaculate.

"Cool."

"And this is my room!" Davie said, standing on tip toes and his hands in the air. I grinned and walked into the room. It wasn't messy enough for a kid's room. The toys and games were on shelves, his army soldiers were standing in a line on his desk. There was no spilled juice on the dresser, no Hot Wheels rug, no crappy TV—though there was a TV, it just wasn't crappy—no coloring books on a book shelf packed with kiddy books. Not at all like how my room was when I wash his age. Everything was clean, except his bed wasn't made, his clothes hung up and his toys put away. It was sad. He had a bunk bed that was red. It had fire engine stickers on it, and I noticed that his walls at least had fire engines painted on. Only it wasn't that crappy hand painted ones you did when you were bored, it was done by a professional.

"Which bed is mine?" I asked Davie.

"The top one," Christy answered anyways. "Davie moves a lot in his sleep, he could fall."

"But there's a safety bar." A whole fucking railing, he couldn't fall off unless he stood up, jumped over the bar and fell to the ground.

"Just to be safe," she shrugged. I didn't argue, just tossed my stuff on the top bunk.

"Now what?" I asked.

"Oh your dad wants us all to go out to dinner in a little bit," she motioned to her dress like it would be obvious. Fuck, maybe I just thought she wore dresses all the time. "Would you mind," she asked hesitantly, pointing to her ears and her eyebrow. "Taking them out?"

"Why, you have your ears pierced?" I pointed out. It felt weird to argue with someone who was supposed to fill a motherly role and who you hardly knew at all.

"Yes but not my eyebrow and I'm a woman."

"So men can't have ears pierced either? I find that to be sexism, Christy."

"Fine, fine," she sighed. "Keep them in."

"I think I will." She sort of huffed at me before turning away and going to her room. I hope she's crying, I thought. I plopped down on Davie's bed and tried not to let my mind think.

About an hour later, Christy appeared in the door way. She was wearing her pink dress, her hair was done up and she was wearing makeup.

"Are you boys ready to go eat?" She asked. Davie jumped up off the bed, he had been practically sitting in my lap, and smiled.

"Come one Shane, come on," he grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet eagerly. I followed my half brother and step mom out into the hall and saw Rick wearing a different suit that the one he was wearing earlier. Christy bent and put a little blue blazer on Davie, making him look like them. I thought about their suits, blazers, nice dresses and jewelry and thought about myself. I was wearing the same thing I wore yesterday, my jeans and my long sleeve, black shirt. I knew I looked like I had slept in my clothes—I basically had—and my eyes were still blood shot from getting high earlier.

"Shane, just while you're here will you take those rings out?" Rick asked.

"They'll close up."

"And that would be a problem?" I ignored him and walked out to the car, glancing at Evelyn's house but I didn't see her. I sat in the back with Davie and slid down low in my seat. I really didn't want to go anywhere with them, but my stomach felt hallow.

We got to some restaurant then, one of those big, nice looking ones where you could only afford if you were god. Christy carried Davie and walked besides Rick so I followed behind them. Inside, it was air conditioned and there was soft music playing. The hostess was a fake blonde, her hair pulled back in a pony tail, with big eyes and a cute smile. She greeted us kindly and her eyes fell to me and stayed there.

"Table for four," Rick said.

"Okay, right this way." She picked up four menus, glanced at me, and led us to a table in the middle of the place. I sat down with them and grabbed my menu and stared at it. It was awkward between the four of us, well not Davie who was too busy coloring on his kid menu. I could tell that they wanted to say something, or they were waiting for me to say anything, but I wouldn't. I stared at all the writing on the menu without seeing it. I was thinking about Kevin and the police, and how suspicious this would look. I just left town all of a sudden when my friend went missing. They were going to find me, they knew something was up. How could they not? I felt like I had a spot light on me and everyone was staring at me with the word "Guilty!" screaming out of their mouths.

Relax, I told myself, shifting in my seat. No one knows, I'm not from here. They're looking at me because they think I'm a freak. Not because they know. Relax.

"—Shane?" I looked up, realizing someone had been talking to me. Rick was waiting for my answer.

"What?" I coughed.

"How are you doing in school?"

"You never cared before, why should you care now?" I asked. Christy shifted, moving her eyes back down to her menu; Rick sighed and dropped the subject. Why did I always do that? I hadn't even really meant to be a smart ass but there it was.

A waiter came over then, giving me an odd look before taking our orders.

"I'll get a cheeseburger with a side of get-me-the-hell-out-of-here, if you have it."

"Shane," Rick huffed. The waiter coughed to hide his laugh as he gathered the menus and left. "Just try and pretend to want to actually be here."

"Sure Dick, I'll get right on that."

"Please don't say that around your brother," Christy said, glancing at Davie who was too engrossed with his macaroni maze to notice. I slid down a bit in my chair, crossing my arms and looked around the restaurant. Everywhere I looked, I met curious, antagonizing stares. Two old chicks were whispering behind menus, throwing me hard looks. I stared right at them until they flustered and looked away, dropping their menus.

Christy and Rick made their small talk about work, plans for the house and some trip they were planning. Davie continued to draw, ignoring everyone. Our food came and we started eating, me in silence but Rick and Christy never shut up. I could tell that they really loved each other because of the looks they were giving each other, like twinkling or some shit. My father reached out a few times to hold Christy's hand on the table as they laughed, drinking their wine. They looked so happy together, and Davie only made them look…completed. I felt shitty suddenly, like a real douche bag and I looked down at my plate.

After dinner we drove home in silence. Christy and Rick were holding hands but not talking and Davie looked out the window.

Inside, I went up stairs to take a shower. I grabbed my toothbrush and razor from my backpack and almost ran into Christy on my way to the bathroom.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, her hand flying to her chest in surprise.

"It's fine…Uhm, where's the bathroom?" I had forgotten already. Big ass, fucking house, I thought.

"Right next to your bedroom," she pointed down the hall. I turned around and walked to the bathroom.

The tile was white, the counter was a white marble, and the soap was white. But the rugs on the floor were red and there was red flowers in a vase next to the hand towels. This bathroom had two sinks and a door closing off the crapper and the shower.

"Nice," I mumbled, feeling the soft towel hanging on the rack. I went to the conjoining room and turned on the shower before going back out to the other room where there was more space. I pulled off my close and just looked at myself in the mirror. I had my dad's cheek bones and chin but I had my mom's eyes and lips and nose. But, if I was being honest, I did look more like my dad. The mirror started to fog over with steam but I didn't move. I watched the steam crawl like pale hands over the glass, covering the side of my face and chin. I was a murderer, I had killed someone. I had killed someone. They're dead. I had killed someone. My own friend.

I snapped out of it and went into the shower. There was too much steam so I stood on the rim of the tub to open the window over my head. But I did a double take and saw Evelyn's bedroom window. She had her back to me as she took off her necklace and placed it on a table. She turned around but she still didn't see me. She walked over to the edge of her bed and sat down, sliding off her flip flops. I put my hand on the side of the wall, to steady myself.

I watched as Evelyn laid back and unbuttoned her shorts and slid them off. Part of me was surprised to see that she was wearing underwear, most of the girls I had dated didn't, but another part of me wasn't surprised. She sat up but walked over to a stereo on her desk and she turned it on. The water from the shower was hitting me in the stomach, but I hardly noticed as she crossed her arms, grabbing the sides of her tank top. And as she turned around, lifting her shirt up, her eyes flashed up and met mine.

"Fuck!" My foot slipped from the tub and I fell backwards, smacking my head on the rim of the tub, the wind knocked out of me.

"Shane? Are you alright?" It was Christy, knocking on the door.

"I'm fine," I croaked. I sat up, holding the back of my head as a steady throb made its self known. "Fuck." I took a few deep breathes, my lungs burning like hell and wondered absentmindedly if I could drown in the shower.

I wrapped a towel around my hips and slapped on some shaving jell on my face and grabbed the razor. My eyes were kinda blurry from hitting my head and it felt like someone was hitting an ice pick in the same spot in my brain. I shaved quickly and careful to not cut my throat. I washed the last of the jell off my face and peeked my head out into the hall. Then I hurried into the room next to the bathroom, the one that was going to be mine. The carpet was still wet and squished as I darted into the room and pulled back the curtain a bit from the window.

Shit, I knew it. My window was right in front of Evelyn's, a clear view into her room. But she wasn't there, her clothes were on the floor and her door open. I smirked and let the curtain fall close before leaving my room quickly.

"What are you doing?" I jumped a bit and turned to see Christy. Why was she always there?

"Nothing."

"You didn't step on the carpet did you? It cost me a lot of money to get it professionally cleaned."

"Oh no, I was just looking." She took in my appearance then and I became very aware of the beads of water on my chest and stomach, my low slung towel. "I'm going to go change." I walked away quickly then, into Davies room and locked the door.

"Hi Shane," Davie smiled from in front of his TV.

"Hey kid." I pulled my bags down from the top bunk and grabbed a pair of boxers. I didn't want to take my towel off and be naked in front of my little half brother, so I stepped into them and carefully pulled them up under my towel as he watched TV. Then I pulled off the towel and dried off my skin and rubbed it through my hair. "Don't you have a bedtime?"

"Uh-huh," he nodded. "After this show." Just then, the credits played. He turned off the TV and crawled into the bottom bunk. I moved my stuff off his bed and threw it next to the closet. "Goodnight Shane."

I looked at him, only seven years old, and his eyes closed and ready for dreams. He looked so fragile, like if I yelled at him or told him to fuck off like I would have to Samantha, he would break.

"Night Davie." It was still pretty early, but I climbed up into my bed anyways. I needed a joint or at least a cigarette. If I was home, I'd be at some lot drinking enough to drown or smoking enough to fill me with smoke. I turned towards the wall and closed my eyes. I couldn't sleep.

I couldn't get comfortable, couldn't get tired. I turned over again and again all fucking night. It was after midnight now, I had been trying to sleep for three hours now. I could hear Davie snoring softly in the bed below me. I covered my face with my hands, sighing heavily as I just laid there. Finally, I got up out of bed quietly and went downstairs. I hadn't finished my burger from the restaurant so I took it out from the fridge and threw it in the microwave.

The floor was fucking cold so I traded off on standing on my feet, crossing my arms. I watched my food rotate in the microwave, the smell of reheated beef filling the kitchen. It pinged so I took it out and set it on the counter to eat. While I ate, I walked around the house. I knew if Christy or Dick saw me, they would have a heart attack, leaving greasy crumbs all over their immaculate house. I went down the hall by the stairs, peeking into the rooms.

I came across Rick's office and went inside. There was a big glass desk with metal legs, a fancy flat screen computer and files on top. There was a fireplace with a huge TV hanging above it, across from the fireplace was a leather couch and a coffee table with a mug on it. I went over to the desk and sat on the chair. There was pictures of Rick and his family in little picture frames, one of him and I'm guessing his boss. His boss was balding and had the red face of an alcoholic…or someone just hella fucking cold.

I put the burger in my mouth, wiped my hands on my boxers and grabbed the computer mouse. The screen woke up and I saw a bunch of confidential files open about my father's patients. I scanned some of it, they were pretty much the same crazies. I minimized those and saw the background of his computer was a picture of all three of them on some sailing boat, an island in the background. Christy was laughing, her head back as she tried to keep her huge freaking hat on while Rick spun in a circle with Davie in his arms. Davie had his arms around Rick's neck, scared to let go as he laughed.

I hit START on the task menu and went to the recent document shortcut and saw the last twenty or so tasks my father had worked on. Near the top was my name. I clicked it. A windows media center opened up, I waited curiously as it loaded. Finally a blurry image popped up with a big play button in the middle, I clicked it and the image moved, clearing. I took the burger out of my mouth and turned down the volume.

I saw the image of my old elementary school in the video, kind of wobbly as whoever was filming readjusted the camera. It stilled and panned around and I saw me when I was a lot younger. I looked up at the camera and smiled nervously. A woman bent down beside me and hugged me, I realized it was my mom. Who was filming? Samantha was only three then.

"Say 'hi daddy'," Tracy told me, smiling at the camera. I smiled again, a little bit happier.

"Hi daddy," I cooed on screen.

"Hi Shaney." Rick's voice came from behind the camera. "What's today?"

"My first day of kindergarten!" I bounced. My mom and father laughed and mom hugged me close. "Tracy, you take the camera." Everything wobbled again as Rick passed the camera to my mom. It settled on me and Rick's legs before he scooped me up in his arms and put me on his hip. His hair was black then and he didn't look so worn out. His clothes were crappier though, when he was poor like we were—are. He wasn't wearing a Ralph Lauren suit with polo shoes and a gold watch. Instead he was wearing brown slacks and a yellow shirt and a brown tie, he looked stupid.

"Shane tell your mom how old you are," Rick said in my ear.

"Five!" But I held up four fingers instead. They laughed and Rick fixed my hands.

"Looks like he's going to be in kindergarten until he's six," he held up five instead. Ass hole. Mom laughed and so did I. The bell rang and I looked terrified suddenly. "Time to go to class Shaney."

"No!" I started crying. "I don't want you to leave."

"We'll be back at three to pick you up sweetie," Tracy said. But I kept crying as they started walking me to my class. They got to the door and I was clinging to Rick.

"Please daddy, don't go," I pressed my face into his neck and cried hard.

"Shaney listen to me," he said calmly, lifting me so I had to look at him. "You're going to be with a bunch of kids your age, with lots of games and learning. It will be fun and I'll pick you up after school and get ice cream. Okay?"

"Okay," I nodded, no longer crying.

"I love you," Rick said, kissing my cheek and putting me on my feet.

"Love you too," I mumbled. And then I walked into my class room and the camera stopped.

I sort of stared at the blurry image of the classroom door for a minute. Uncomfortable, I clicked on the images to the right and saw at least a dozen of pictures with me and Rick in them. At Disney Land, at the mall, at the park, at a baseball game, me on his shoulders, me and him running away from the water at the beach and one of all four of us, even Samantha.

But there were no recent ones, only ones from when I was little. Ones I didn't remember at all.

I got pissed off suddenly and I clicked off his computer without hiding the fact I had been looking through his shit. I got up quickly, pushing the chair back into a file cabinet and was about to storm out when I saw the glass case next to a book shelf.

I hadn't seen it before but now I walked over to it. Inside I could see rows of prescribed medicines in little orange bottles. I grabbed the handle and pulled but it was locked. There was a pad lock on the handle the kind with the rows of numbers where you had to put in order with a code to open it. I grabbed the lock and thought quickly. I tried my dad's birthday, tried Samantha's, Davie's and Christy's but it didn't open. I tried their area code, their zip code, the address and all zeros. But it still wouldn't fucking open.

I wanted those goddamn pills inside.

I stopped. I looked down at the lock, and hesitated before I tried my birthday. The lock popped open. I didn't think about it, I just opened the door and looked at the shelves full of pills. If I took too much now, Dick was sure to notice. I grabbed the first bottle and read the words Sleep Aid. What the hell? I shrugged and popped off the cap and palmed three blue pills and swallowed them. I recapped the bottle and put it back. I would come back for more later, I closed the lock and went back to bed.


	6. Water Drops

Chapter. 6. Water Drops.

The next morning I walked to the police station down town to make my new court date. I really didn't want to but Rick forced me to go and I thought a walk would do me good. Those sleeping pills I took wore me out and I felt tired and sluggish still.

The air was hot here, the sun beating down on me as I walked. A breeze brushed over my face and it was cool, and settled my nerves only a little bit. I was pretty nervous as hell, really, to be going to the police station. It didn't matter that it was a different city, far away from where I had actually committed the murder, but I almost felt like they already knew.

Maybe I was just being paranoid. That all the faces turning to look at me and whisper weren't really looking at me or talking about me. I shoved my hands down in my pocket, my skin starting to sting from the sun. My pace quickened as more people turned around to watch me.

I kept my head down, looking up without turning my face. They were watching me. They had to be. A woman on the corner wearing a summer dress with big, yellow flowers on it and a red bag was holding a little girl with curly blonde hair in her arms. They were at a bus stop, the bus wouldn't be here for a while. They were watching me like all the others. As I neared, the little girl raised her little arm and pointed at me, directly at me. I felt my heart skip a beat and then take off against my chest.

Her mom should've pulled her arm down, it wasn't polite to point. But the mom wasn't paying any attention to her daughter, or if she was, she didn't seem to care. I looked away from her and hurried around the corner down a back alley. There wasn't any one here in this old alley, the dirt floor kicking up dust as I walked. I was thankful and breathed in the hot air. I turned right again and found the big, black letters of the Bodega Bay Police Station glaring down at me on the sidewalk.

I pulled my hands out of my pockets and rubbed them together, then wiped the sweat off on my jeans. Licking my lips, I looked around me but quickly looked down at my feet as a blue car slowly drove down the street. I peeked up and when they were gone, I went up the cement steps and through the heavy door.

It was pretty quiet in here. Along both sides of the door there were blue, plastic chairs were a prostitute and a greasy looking guy were sitting with their hands cuffed. The plastic covered, fluorescent lights flickered, making the tile floors glow. I went up to the desk that cut the front room in half and rang the little bell even though someone was sitting in the desk. I was nervous I guess.

But he gave me a look before looking back down to the file he was working on. "How can I help you?" He grumbled.

"Uhm, I'm here to reschedule a court date…"

"Name?"

"Uh, Shane Monroe." It sounded like a question. He sighed, flipped his file closed and started typing on an outdated computer. I shifted my weight and looked around me, at least here no one was looking at me. When he was finished, he picked up a clip board and stuck a few pieces of paper in it before slapping it down on the counter.

"I need you to fill these out and fill this up." He placed one of those plastic pee cups on the clip board. I picked it up and turned it over.

"What for?" He gave me a hard look like it should be obvious, even though it was.

"Just fill it up and bring it back to me when you're finished." I complied, taking the cracked clipboard and cup and went to go sit in an empty chair. The clipboard had one of those metal chains connected to it and then a black pen connected to the chain. I twirled the pen as I read over the papers, creating swirling loops with the thin chain. It was all pretty standard questions: Name, weight, height, age, phone number, social security number and so on.

I filled it out quickly, I could smell the prostitute's perfume and it was making me antsy. Shane W. Monroe. One hundred and thirty-eight pounds. Six feet and three inches. Seventeen…and so it went. It asked about family background, if they drank or used drugs. I left Rick's side blank and didn't have to fill in very much for Tracy; she wasn't a heavy drinker and never used drugs. She was a pretty decent mom.

After six pages later, I finally came to the questions that took me longer to answer.

What crime did you commit? Murder.

How many times have you been arrested in your recent past? Four times. Was your arresting because of your crime? No. Something else.

Are you currently on or taking any drugs? Not currently.

Are you a minor? Yes.

When you committed your crime were you a minor? Yes.

Do **you feel** as if you should be arrested? Definitely.

If yes, for how long? Forever.

Any comments you would like to add? I killed two teen age boys and buried their bodies in the park, about a quarter of a mile North. Under a patch of corn you will find them in nap sacs.

"Monroe." I snapped my head up and saw a police man with a deep, russet colored skin and deep black hair was looking down at me with black eyes. He must have been Indian. "You can finish that later. I need your urine sample." I looked down at the last page of questions and saw all the blank spaces. I blinked hard, my mind swirling with those sleeping pills.

I got up and handed him the clipboard and walked to the bathroom down the hall. "You might need a drink," he called after. I stopped and looked back and saw that he was standing next to a water cooler. I walked back and took the little Dixie cup he offered and filled it with water. He was watching me with his dark eyes, he was taller than me, surprisingly, it intimidated me. I gulped down the water in two sips and then filled another.

When I finished, I crumpled up the cup and tossed it in the little waste bin next to it and turned my back on the officer and walked away. I could feel his eyes on me and I wanted to get out of there, so I burst through the bathroom doors and almost collided with a girl in there.

"Whoa, sorry," I breathed.

"You almost knocked me over," she complained, fixing her hair.

"Wait, what are you doing in here?" I frowned.

She rolled her eyes and turned around, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's a unisex bathroom, jerk."

"Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it…." I looked behind her and saw that there was only one stall and a sink in here. I didn't want to piss in a cup while she was in here, it made me uncomfortable. She looked down at the cup as if reading my mind and smirked.

"By the looks of you, you're not about to pass that urine test." I shrugged, feeling snubbed. "I could take care of that for you."

I looked her over. She was wearing a leopard print dress that was made out of a thick fabric, it was a turtleneck but didn't have any sleeves and barely reached the middle of her thighs. She was wearing a pair of torn fish net stalking but her silver high heels looked new. Her brown hair was pulled up into a messy bun and there was mascara rubbed into the corners of her eyes.

"Are _you_ any cleaner than I am?" She lifted one of her crossed arms and began studying the chipped, red paint, flicking her middle nail with her thumb nail.

"I may be a whore, but the one thing I don't put in my body is drugs."

"Then what's the catch?"

"Forty bucks a cup."

"Forty? Fuck that shit, no way." I scoffed and walked to the bathroom stall, she didn't move.

"Suit yourself. It'll only make your sentence rougher," she looked me over from the corner of her eye. "And it's obvious that you have committed some crime, a clean piss will get you off easier." I looked down at the cup, the orange lid and then down to the dirty floor, a wet wad of toilet paper was stuck to the corner. She pushed away from the sink and walked over, taking the cup from me. "It won't be long, have the money waiting or the piss goes down the drain."

I stepped out of her way so she could go into the stall, she shut and locked the door behind her. I heard her heels click over to the toilet and the sound of her elastic waist band being slid down. Out of some courtesy I could muster, I walked away from the stall and over to the door, crossing my arms and leaning against it.

I tried not to listen, focusing on something else but then she started to talk.

"So what's your name slick?"

"Shane, what's yours?"

"Olivia, or Candy, which ever one you like best," she laughed. I chuckled, shifting my weight.

"Olivia sounds better." I heard the toilet flush and I saw her heels under the door before it clicked and opened. She walked out with a peculiar look on her face, it was somber and reproachful. She leaned against the stall for a second, the cup in her hand as she crossed her arms.

"You know, a slick like you, shouldn't be in jail. Whatever you did," she walked over and handed me the piss cup. She reached up on her tip toes and put her mouth near my ear. "Run like hell." She kissed my cheek and lowered herself back down on her feet. I gaped at her, I didn't know what to say, my throat seized up. She smirked and grabbed a makeup bag I hadn't seen from behind the sink. "Good luck slick." And then she walked away.

I paused for a minute, not knowing what to think. Her words freaked me out, that was for sure. But I had something to do so I turned around and left the bathroom. The Officer was just walking out of an office just then so he waved me in and I followed. He shut it behind me and I sat down in the metal, fold up chair in front of his desk.

He walked around and sat down behind his desk and flopped down my not-so-thin file on his desk. "You've been busy," he read over my file, I looked down at my shoes and licked my dry lips. He flipped my file closed and leaned back in his seat, the wood creaking under his tall frame. "So why are you here?"

"I think you already know," I muttered to the edge of his desk.

"Yes, Officer Stacie has informed me yesterday—you've cooked up quite a strange relationship with him…" I felt my throat close up, I turned my face sideways to look away from him at the pictures on the wall as a distraction. "Why don't you tell me why you're here."

"Me and a friend were smoking pot on the side of a highway."

"Was that all the drug paraphernalia they found on you two?" He folded his hand on his stomach.

"No, they found an underground drug on both of us," I shrugged, still not looking at him.

"And now you're here to schedule a court date—"

"And community service hours," I shifted my weight in the metal chair. He sat up, the chair creaking again, and started typing on the same outdated computer as the man out at the desk.

The computer hummed and stuttered a few times as I sat in that hard chair, my ass going numb. "Can I have that?" He asked a few minutes later, nodding to my hand. I handed over the Cup O Pee and wiped my hands on my jeans, not because I was disgusted, just nervous I guess. He set it down on the stacks of paper in the metal basket on his desk next to a picture frame. I couldn't see who the picture was of, only the black backing.

As I waited, a woman walked in, took the cup of pee and a few pieces of paper that came out of Officer Moore's printer before leaving. Officer Moore picked up his phone, mumbled a few things and then hung up. He went back to typing and took off his hat and set it aside and I saw that he had a low pony tale, holding his deep black hair away from his face.

Finally, he typed in something and turned to me, looking tired. I felt bad for him. "Your court date is for Tuesday morning at nine AM and the judge will give you the appropriate amount of community service hours. Is there anything you would like to ask me?"

"N-no," I croaked and cleared my throat. He nodded and rubbed his large hand over his face and yawned.

"You can go." I stood up quickly and hurried out of the office, the door barely closing behind me. Out in the front room, the officer at the front desk was on the phone but he waved me over. Lowering the phone from his mouth, he said:

"You need to sign out." I looked down at the clipboard sign in sheet and quickly scribbled my name and the time before whirling around and pushing through the heavy doors. I stepped out into the humid air and froze.

Rick's gray car was parked against the curb and I could see him talking on his cell phone. When he saw me he got out of the car, I started to walk away.

"Shane, wait!" He called after me.

"What for?" I called over my shoulder, not stopping.

"Don't you want a ride home? It's a long walk." I stopped then and turned around and saw him on the sidewalk, his phone down at his side like a weapon.

"I'm not going _home_, I don't have a home anymore remember?"

"Don't be ridiculous, you have a home, and that's with me—for the time being. Now would you like a ride home?"

"A home is not a place where you get pawned off to, Rick."

"A _home_ is where you have family who will take care of you and love you." I closed my eyes, my jaw tightening. I knew from years of experience that arguing would only make this whole scene last longer, dragging it out more than it needed to be.

I spoke with my eyes closed. "I'll be back in a little while, I think I'm going to take a walk." I opened my eyes and saw him toying with his phone, looking around the street. It didn't matter that there was a bunch of people out, I was invisible when I had a father type around.

"Do you want me to pick you up from anywhere?"

"No."

"Okay, well take my phone and call me if you change your mind." He tossed it up at me and I caught it, lingering for a minute.

"Thanks," I said and then walked away. I heard him get back in his car and drive away. I thought about the joint I had in my left sock but decided to not smoke it, I needed time to think and the weed would only screw with my mind and I wouldn't get anything done.

I didn't really know where I was going, I just kept making turns and going down long streets and over a bypass. I checked the time on Rick's cell phone, it was only a little after one-thirty by the time I stumbled across a skate park. It was a pretty big park actually. To my left there was a decent sized playground on a large field of green grass, to the right was a skate park with cement tunnels and ramps, behind that a ocean side restaurant. Everything else was on the beach, the pale sand covered in foot prints and a few plastic, toys. A girl jogged on the beach with a Rottweiler on a chain leash.

A group of guys and girls played volleyball near the water, and a throng of people laid out in the sun on towels or were surfing in the water. It was a nice day but I felt like hell. I got really depressed suddenly, thinking about everything. I was holding the cell phone in my hand but I spotted a pay phone near the beach. I decided to use that instead but I had no money.

I spotted an older, plump woman shuffling down to the beach so I jogged over to her. She looked annoyed that I got in her way when I skidded to a halt, spraying up sand. "Can I help you young man?" She asked.

"I was wondering if you had a quarter I could borrow, I need to make a phone call," I smiled politely. Her manner shifted and she smiled back.

"Sure thing sweetie." She reached into her purse and dug around before extracting her change and passed it over to me, giving me more than I asked for.

"Thank you ma'am." I jogged back to the phone and slid the change in. I held the phone to my ear and turned to look at the beach as it rang. Finally it was answered.

"Hello?" Kevin asked quietly.

"It's Shane."

"Dude! Where the hell are you? I stopped by your house earlier and Samantha said you're at your _dad's_ house?! How the hell did that happen? I thought you hated your dad?"

"Calm down, shit," I swore. "Yeah I got stuck here because they thought it would be good for me or something. Listen, did you make up your court date yet?"

"Yeah, Wednesday at three, I think. Why? Did you make yours yet?"

"I got mine on Tuesday morning. What if they know and they ask us about Mark and Dean?"

"This has nothing to do with them," he assured me. "This is about the night of the movies. _If_ they happen to ask about them—and I doubt they will, just give them the bullshit: 'No, I don't know where they are. I was supposed to hang out with Dean that night too, but he never showed up. Yes he was a drug dealer, and he might have had some enemies, but I'm not sure.' All that crap."

"Right, I just…"

"Cool it man, if you keep freaking out like this, they're going to know something is up. Remember what I told you: think of your mom."

"Yeah," I breathed, my chest tight. "You're right."

"I've got to go, my nana's been driving me crazy—" There was a loud _thunk_ on the phone and I heard Kevin swear and then he was arguing with his grandmother. A second later he was back on the phone. "I think she fills her purse with bricks."

"Alright, well I'll talk to you later." I hung up without waiting for his goodbye. I kept my hand on the phone but didn't move. I could hear the waves washing over the sand, laughing, barking, an ice cream truck song as it pulled down the street, someone had a boom box somewhere and the sound of wooden skateboards slapping on cement swarmed around my head. I picked up the phone and pushed the last of my change in the slot and dialed home.

"Yeah?" Samantha's bored voice yawned.

"Sam—"

"Shane? Let me guess, you've been arrested and need bail money?" I flinched and was grateful she couldn't see me.

"No, I just want to talk to mom."

"Whatever. _MOM_!" I winced again as my eardrum cried. There was a few muffled sounds and a shuffle before Tracy picked up the phone.

"Hello? Shane?"

"Mom, can I come home?" She sighed, the sound blowing into the phone.

"Sweetie, you know you can't."

"But mom—"

"No Shane. This is going to be good for you, I promise. What's so bad about staying with your father for a little while? It's not permanent."

"I hate him mom! I don't want to be here, please just let me come home, mom. Please. I promise I'll be better, please mom. I know I've acted like a shit—"

"Language."

"I'm sorry, I'll work on that too, I promise. Please mom. I'll go to school and church with you, I'll even get a job and stop doing drugs. I'll start talking to you more and I'll be nicer to Samantha. I'll get everything done on time, I'll be a good son. Please mom?! Please?" I was gripping the side of the phone like a vise, waiting for her answer. I could hear her thinking on the other line, she was biting her nails, her nervous habit, I could hear that too. My heart was racing, I licked my lips nervously.

"Maybe…maybe I could come up and visit sometime soon?" I lifted the phone away from my ear, wanting to smash it but I put it back to my ear.

"Mom…I want _out_ of here. I feel like I'm going to scream, like I'm suffocating. Please mom, I love you mom, don't let me stay here."

"Shane…I-I can't, you know that."

"Mom…_please_?"

"No." I slammed the phone back down, breathing heavily, my jaw locked. I felt the hot tears squeeze out from the corners of my eyes and run down over my cheeks before I even knew I was going to cry. I grabbed the metal tops of the pay phone and rested my forehead on the backs of my hands and cried. I kicked the wooden pole that was connected to the pay phone, it shook so I kicked it again. I kept kicking it, the wooden post swinging back in forth in the ground until it was loose enough for me to push it over.

I stalked away towards the beach, the sand slowing me down a bit until I reached the edge of the water. The sea foam licked the sides of my shoes and sprayed my face as the waves turned out in the ocean, higher than I was tall, seagulls soaring above them. I pitched Rick's cell phone out into the wave as it build. I watched the black speck tumbled in the water before going under. The water near my feet pulled back on the sand, a huge wave swelling before starting to rise. The water at the top started to dip, turning white, and I dove in.

I was slammed into the sand, the water pounding on top of me in a thunderous sound and sucking out my air. I was spun across the sand, deeper into the ocean, over shells and rocks. Suddenly the ground was pulled away from me and there was only water. I kicked and clawed at the water but then the ground was back with a heavy force, twisting and spinning me as I was pulled out with the tide.

The water was freezing and gripped me until I was almost paralyzed. Sand swarmed into my eyes as the waves hit the ground. Again, the floor was pulled away and I felt myself rising with the wave; spots filling my eyes and I felt lightheaded. The wave kept building, longer than before and then finally, I was thrown down so fast everything blurred. I saw a flash of something reddish-brown right before I cracked my forehead against it, then I saw nothing.

There was a beeping in my ears that hurt my head. I tried to lift my hand and swat it away but there was something heavy pinning down my arm. I tried the other arm but something tugged on my skin and stung enough to make me wince and open my eyes. I saw white walls, a white curtain, a white blanket and white blinds. It had the sterile smell of a hospital and the look of one. I blinked a blur from my eyes and looked down at myself.

Sure enough, I was in a hospital bed. There was a cast enclosed around my right arm, and an IV needle in my left arm. I looked up and my head throbbed, the heart monitor machine making it worse.

"Shane, are you alright?" My mom's hand touched my arm above the I needle. She had mascara smeared under her blood shot eyes and a tissue in her other hand.

"What happened?" My throat stung.

"Did you go swimming in the ocean?"

"No…Sorta." She sniffed and dabbed her nose with the tissue.

"You hit your head on some coral, they had to surgically remove some that was wedge into your skull. You have a concision, your broke your wrist and pulled a few muscles in your left arm…Your…your eye is swollen almost completely shut, and you have stitches on your forehead—fourteen. You're covered in bruises and you swallowed a lot of salt water so you may be feeling sick."

"Oh," I said lamely. "Is that all?"

"You had to miss your court date, it's Friday. You've been out for a while, the doctors said this was best because you'd be in a lot of pain if you were awake."

"Where's Rick?"

"He was here a minute ago, he went out to buy a new phone so he could be here with you and work." I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

"I don't want him here."

"Shane—he is your father."

"I don't care, I don't want any one here. I don't want _you_ here, get out."

"But Shane—"

"No, I don't care, leave me alone." The heart rate monitor started beeping louder and Tracy glanced at it, biting her lip. "Mom. Just…get out. Please." She looked down at her feet before grudgingly leaving. When she reached the door, it opened before she touched it and Sam was standing there, flowers in her hand. She had been crying. She glanced at mom as she pushed past her and out into the hall, crying too.

"What the hell did you do?" She glared, walking over to the foot of my bed.

"Nothing, get out." I couldn't stand looking at her, her eyes were red and puffy.

"Way to go Shane, you made mom cry. Are you happy now?" She pinched the tops of the flowers, tears welling in her eyes. "You know what mom's been doing since we got here the _day_ of your accident? She's been arguing with the nurses, trying to make you as comfortable as you could be even while you were unconscious. She persuaded the doctors to keep you asleep for a little while longer because she didn't want her son that she _loves_ to be in pain. And you know what really pisses me off Shane?"

I was feeling like a genuine asshole now. "I was actually scared. I thought you died. I kept thinking about all the fights we got into and all the times I told you I hated but I didn't mean it. Way to go, jerk." She threw down the flowers on the floor and stalked off, slamming the door behind her.

I stared after her, at the door. I don't think I had ever been a bigger douche bag than right now. I rested my head back on the pillow, staring up at the tiled ceiling through tears that I was too tired to fight back.

Two days later they let me go from the hospital. I sat in the back of Rick's car quietly, Davie half asleep in his car seat. Christy was looking out the window and Rick was concentrating on his driving. My mom and sister left the night after Samantha yelled at me. I was still feeling pretty shitty about that, I thought of writing my mom a letter. But my writing hand was in this stupid plaster cast and if I tempted to write a letter with my left hand it wouldn't even be legible. I doubted they would even read it, what would I say anyways?

I looked down at my hands on my legs. My right hand was throbbing but not as bad as it was before I got the pain meds. My left arm had a bandage tapped over a bloody spot on my arm from the IV needle that I kept tugging every time I tried to get comfortable in that scratchy bed.

I had the stupid blue and white sling draped over my knee, it pinched my neck when I wore it and hurt my broken wrist. I had the bottle of pain killers in my pocket, but I wasn't about to down them.

We finally got home and Christy got Davie out. He was passed out in her arms, his baby cheeks squished against her shoulder as he snored. Rick had to open my door for me because the pulled muscles in my left arm wouldn't let me move. When I tried to stand, I strained my muscles in my side and arm and my knees buckled. Rick's hands shot out to catch me and steady me half against the car and half against his chest. I didn't pull away automatically. I had my cheek against his shoulder, breathing in deeply to settle the pain that radiated out of me. I could smell him, smell his Old Spice cologne, a cigar and his familiar scent in his clothes. A flash back came to me from when I was little. I saw my dad opening the front door with a ratty suit case and his coat in his hands. I had been waiting for him at the window, when he saw me he put down his things and opened up his arms. I ran to him, laughing and threw my arms around his neck. He picked me up and held me tightly against his chest. He smelled exactly the same then too. One arm wrapped around my back and his other hand pressed against the back of my head. I remember hearing him sigh and telling me he loved me…

To my humiliation, I looked up and saw Evelyn McCreedy stepping out of her house. I felt my muscles tighten which made my arm flare in pain, causing me to cringe and stumble even more against Rick.

He lifted me back up to my feet and guided me into the house. My room was finished now, and Christy had moved every thing into my room for me already. All I had to do was carefully find a way to roll into bed without hurting myself. I carefully worked a few pain pills out of the bottle and dry swallowed them.

I was about to fall asleep when there was a knock on my window and then it suddenly slid open. I sat up and saw a leg coming into my room and then arms and a full body. Evelyn was standing in my room, looking around with her hands on her hips.

"Nice room, very…white."

"What are you doing here? _How_ the hell did you get in here?" I frowned.

"I know you already know that your room looks right into mine, it works both ways," she smirked and walked around my room, to the foot of my bed. "The tree helped too."

"Oh," I mumbled. "But _why_ are you here?" She suddenly lifted herself up and over the footboard and sat down next to my feet on the bed.

"I visited you at the hospital but I'm not family so they didn't let me stay in the room for very long. I thought I'd wait until you got home and crawl in here and take advantage of you in your situation." She smiled and I found myself starting to smile back but I let it drop. "Besides, I thought you could use some company outside of your family."

"Yeah, well you were right about that." I tried to shift my weight but the pain sprang up my sides. "Shit." I winced and fell back on the pillow.

"Here, let me help." She was moving before I could object. She grabbed me by my waist and pushed me back against the pillow so I could sit up more and then she adjusted the pillows under me. But she let her hands linger near my shoulder. She was closer to me than she had been before. She was so beautiful. She had bright, green eyes and her pale skin looked almost translucent, thin as paper. Her dark hair was spilling over her shoulders on one side, revealing her neck.

She gingerly touched the sides of my face with her finger tips, at my temple, my cheek bone and my jaw.

"What are you doing?" I frowned, the stitches in my eyebrow and forehead pulled on my skin.

"Just be quiet for a minute," she said softly. "Does it hurt?"

"The pills help," I breathed. She smelled so good. Evelyn softly touched my stitches and her own eyebrows pulled together slightly. I watched her taking my appearance in, I was sure I looked like hell. I had a gash on my knee that wasn't bad enough for stitches but against my pant leg, hurt like hell. She ran the palm of her hand down the sides of my face and I felt my eyes slip close. She felt so good.

The pads of her thumbs traced the bridge of my nose and under my eyes, across my cheekbones. "You cry…don't you?"

"What?" My eyes opened and the soft look on her face was enough for me to instantly regret my harsh tone. "What are you talking about?"

"Your skin under your eyes is very soft, it either means you sleep a lot or you cry often," she said simply, placing her hands back in her lap.

"So what does it matter? Everyone cries." I looked away from her, my jaw flexing tightly. I saw her nod out of my peripheral and then she was standing and stepped softly down from my bed in front of the window.

"I wouldn't have pegged you as a person who cried," she admitted. "But it makes you seem more human. Crying isn't something you should hide Shane. My window is always open, come crawling in whenever you need to talk." I heard her step out on to the branch and slide my window closed.

I got out of bed and went over to the window, twisting the lock closed tightly but stopped. Evelyn was just getting into her window, I watched her leave her room, shutting her door behind her. I unlocked my window and went back to bed, downing more pain pills first.


	7. Police And Dates

Chapter 7. Dates and Police.

I don't know what was worse out of the day: getting ready to go to the court house, the drive to the court house or actually _being in_ the court house. I had gone to court before, once for vandalizing public property and almost getting charged with arson—Kevin, me and…Dean…were screwing around out in a field behind the school with a few lighters. Kevin had burnt his finger and dropped his lighter and the field was dry, quick to burn. But other than that, I was new to this whole experience. I had the feeling I wouldn't be anymore.

Christy had insisted that she go along, which meant we couldn't be bringing Davie because he would be 'a handful'. We had to get a baby sitter. And of course, Christy's first choice was none other than Evelyn McCreedy herself.

"Why her?" I asked, blocking her path to the phone.

"Shane stop this," Christy chastised me. "We're going to be late and Davie needs a baby sitter."

"I'm not a baby," Davie pouted from the dinning table, an Elmo bib around his neck.

"I know honey," she smiled at him then turned to me, glancing at her watch. "Shane we're going to be late."

"How well do you know Evelyn, really?" I pushed, stepping to the side as Christy did. "How do you know she isn't some irresponsible wh—person? That she's not going to leave Davie all alone so she can go to a friend's house?"

"Evelyn?" She scoffed. "She's not that kind of girl."

"Okay, what if she brings a guy here then?" Her brows slanted, she was thinking. I had to keep going. I didn't want to say it…hell I didn't want to even _think_ it….It almost…_hurt_ to think it. "What if—what if she brings a guy here and they…do things in front of Davie?" She froze, her eyes searching mine before she glanced at Davie. She looked at her watch, shifted her weight, glanced out the window behind her and toyed with her earring.

"Davie, get your coat, you're going with us." She gave me a hard look before turning away and walking down the hall, Davie following her. I dropped my shoulders and let out a breath. I looked out the window that pointed to the street and saw the front of Evelyn's house. I felt guilty as hell, as you could imagine. But the thought of Evelyn in this house…in my room…looking through my things and finding what made me a bad son…I shuddered and popped a few pain pills down my throat.

"Almost ready son?" Rick walked into the kitchen, clasping his watch around his wrist and grabbing a cup of coffee off the counter.

"Not entirely," I mumbled.

"Well we've go to go, your hearing starts in a few minutes and we're running late."

"Good to know, I'll alert the town." I walked away from him towards the front door. Rick followed, taking his car keys out of his pocket.

"Christy! We have to leave," he called out, half way out the door.

"I'm coming, keep it down." She bent to zip up Davie's coat and then took his hand.

"What happened to getting a baby sitter?" Christy glanced at me and I looked towards the car.

"I changed my mind." We all got in the car then and I looked down at my hands as we pulled out of the drive way. My arm was in the stupid sling but Christy had sewn a scarf or something soft on the neck strap so it didn't hurt as bad but it was still uncomfortable. My left arm muscles were healing pretty quickly, it didn't hurt as much to move it. My head still throbbed from the surgery and concussion but the stitches would be coming out in two weeks. I had thrown up most of the salt water, Rick holding me by my shoulders as I leaned over the toilet because I couldn't hold myself up…

I hadn't seen much of Evelyn since the day she climbed into my room. Every day I would peek through the blinds and see her window and sometimes she'd be in her room but she didn't look at me. I had been home from the hospital for almost a week and I heard mom on the phone with Dick only last night.

I was walking down the hall past his office to the laundry room and I noticed his door was ajar. I ended up stopping just outside of it, he had her on speakerphone.

"He hasn't even been with you for _two_ weeks and he's already in the hospital Rick." I had never really heard her raise her voice before.

"That isn't my fault Tracy," he had sighed, his chair squeaked as he turned. "I didn't push him in the _ocean_."

"Maybe…maybe he should just come home—"

"No Tracy," he interrupted and I clamped my fists together which hurt so bad I gasped and froze. He hadn't heard me so he continued. "We both agreed that he needed to be here."

"What about a boy's home or a boot camp?" She pleaded. I was almost sure it would be better than being here but of course he didn't go for it.

"If we do that, then we're giving up. I'm not giving up on him."

"Like you did when he was six?" Everything became very still and quiet then. I turned on my heel, forgetting about my laundry and went to my room, slamming the door so hard that I would have to wrenched it free the next time I left.

Davie's little hand reaching out for my hair brought me out of my revere.

"What are you doing?" I leaned away.

"Will I look like you when I'm older?" I heard Christy chuckle adoringly as she gazed out the window and I saw Rick smirk.

"Depends," I said, sitting straight. "Eat your vegetables, drink your milk and go to school."

"But you don't," he pointed out. "You don't even eat dinner with us." A spark of tension went through the room, almost tangible.

"I got lucky."

"Davie why don't you look at the clouds and tell me what pictures you see?" Christy intervened. I sank down in my seat, half listening to Davie point out dragons, fish and Dr. Sues characters in the sky.

We finally reached the court house a few minutes later. The air was hot and the sun was blinding, trying to scare me into the big court room. I stood out front by the steps, looking up at the building with its cement pillars and thin windows.

Rick walked over and put his hand on my shoulder. "Are you ready for this?"

"No." I shook him off me and went up the steps. Naturally when I reached the door I couldn't open it so Rick had to help. I didn't look at him or thank him as I walked in and froze. I recognized Officer Stacie's back as he spoke to the jury—an actual jury, like what my mom got called into sometimes—and I felt sick.

"Are you alright?" I heard Officer Moore but didn't see him, felt hands on my shoulders. "You look like you're about to faint."

"I'm okay, it's been a long few weeks," I mumbled, my stomach heaving.

"Let's get you in a chair and get some water." He waved away my father and step mother and lead me over to the Defendant's table in front of the gate. The men and women of the jury gave me hard looks and I absentmindedly swore at myself for at the very least not taking out my piercings and dressing nicely. Officer Moore filled me a cup of water out of the pitcher on the table. I drank it down quickly, my hand shaking so hard that it made it difficult to drink. "Take it easy." Officer Moore advised, taking away the cup and setting it down. "Nervous?"

"Sick," I lied. He nodded and looked at the big clock behind the Judge's Bench. As he did the door to the Judge's Chamber opened and an old man stepped out and sat at the Judge's Chamber. Officer Moore motioned for me to stand after the bailiff mouthed something I didn't hear. I stood and then sank back down with everyone else.

"Shane Monroe," the old man read, through his glasses, the file in front of him.

"Yes sir," I nodded. He glanced at me and then to the file again.

"You were arrested for being under the influence of marijuana on a high way shoulder. Correct?"

"Yes sir," I repeated, my arm starting to itch.

"And you're here for your community service hours?"

"Yes." And that's how it took off.

I had to answer a few questions, tell my side of the story, hear what Kevin had said at his hearing. It matched what I said so it was over pretty quickly. I had to make up one hundred-and-twenty hours of community service and check in with Officer Moore once a week.

My file said that my last drug test came out clean—I silently thanked the girl in the bathroom a thousand times over. The judge asked me if I was currently on anything or had taken any in the last twenty-four hours, I told him no and he nodded. He brought up the arson charges that had been dropped because it was on accident and no one and nothing had been ruined besides half the field. For the vandalism of public property—which was really just engraving my name and a girl who I had been dating, name on the picnic table bench in the park.

Everything was pretty much fine until the Judge asked if anyone had anything to say. There was silence from the jury, my father and Christy, even from Officer Moore but Officer Stacie spoke up.

"My son went missing," he said, his voice as clear as a bronze bell. I felt my face freeze over and my stomach churn. "About three weeks ago. He said he was going to Elk Creek to hang out with your friend Dean. And you said you were supposed to go over to Dean's house that same night—"

"I didn't say…" But he kept going, getting louder and louder, rising in his seat.

"They're both missing. We've searched every where and we even matched—"

"That's enough Officer Stacie," the Judge slammed down his gavel. Officer Stacie flicked his eyes at the Judge and lowered himself down into his seat again. "Court dismissed."

And I passed out.

I had never passed out sober before. If I was wasted I was too gone to dream but I guess being clean frees your mind. I dreamt of Evelyn. We were in some room, but I don't know where or why we were there. She was standing about a yard away from me, looking at me with wide eyes.

"What's happening to you Shane?" She asked. "What aren't you telling me?"

I couldn't speak. My mouth was cemented shut and I couldn't move my arms. Her demeanor changed and she smiled then, her brilliant smile and stepped closer to me, wrapping her arms around my neck. I could smell her even unconscious. She laughed a small laugh and toyed with my hair. "Isn't this what you want? Just tell me." A sliver of light shone over her face, blinding me, blocking her out until there was no more Evelyn, only worried faces.

And of course, the first one was my father's.

"Shane, can you see me?"

"My eyes are open aren't they?" I coughed, struggling to sit up, hands pushing me to my feet.

"Did you feel like you hit your head?" Officer Monroe asked, pulling me away from everyone.

"No," I reached for my head but my muscle pulled and I dropped my arm. Officer Moore chewed on his lip and glanced over his broad shoulders at Officer Stacie. He had his arms folded, accusations brewing in his mind. That was all the proof he needed. I swayed slightly and Officer Moore caught me.

"Whoa, easy. These last few weeks have taken quite a toll on you. Go home, get some rest and start your hours next week, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," I nodded, my mouth dry. He patted me on the shoulder and let me walk to the others. Their voices ran together, faces blurred and colors mixed together until I couldn't see straight. I felt the rumble of Rick's gray, bland car, the ground and steps under my feet as I walked into the house. Then the fabric of the cream colored, suede couch as I slumped down on my stomach, my leg hanging off the side.

Someone, Christy I think, draped a red, Egyptian cotton blanket over me. I felt smothered in their money but I didn't move from the expensive couch. The couch back home was a dark green with soda and wine stains on the arms and when you sat you could feel the springs stabbing at your ass or your back. I felt cold but I was sweating. Rick went to work, some emergency call and Christy took Davie grocery shopping.

I watched a few movies and shows without really watching them. Christy came home soon after with Davie, her arms full of groceries. I couldn't lift much with an arm full of pulled muscles and the other in a cast so I helped put them away as she brought them in.

"Your father would like you to eat dinner with all of us," she said, not looking at me. I didn't say anything for a long minute, turning around to put away some frozen peas and raspberries into the freezer before turning back around.

"What are you making?" She turned her head up to me and smiled. She was a decent person.

"What would you like?" I shrugged, shoving the plastic bags into a ball and tossing them in the garbage.

"Whatever." She nodded, a smile still on her lips as she finished putting away the rest of the food. I went down the hall to the bathroom and splashed some cold water on my face with my left hand, careful to not get my cast wet. I looked at myself in the mirror and felt something inside of me flinch.

I was incredibly pale, dark circles under my eyes and the stitches seemed to be glaring at me, cutting through my eyebrow, almost where my piercing was. I straightened and carefully lifted the bottom of my shirt up. I must have lost eight pounds since coming here, I could almost see my ribs, and I was already a skinny guy. My sides were splashed in bruises and I had a few thin scratches across my chest. I dropped my shirt and went back out to the living room.

Rick came home soon after and I grudgingly went to eat dinner with all of them. The food was good, spaghetti and a salad and toasted bread, and surprisingly, there wasn't any tension at the table. I let Davie color on my cast for a while. I watched him as he drew a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle on the plaster, his whole little fist wrapped around the green crayon, his little eyebrows puckered as he concentrated.

"Shane, how are you feeling?" Rick asked.

"Fine," I said, shrugging one shoulder before looking up. "I must have been dehydrated earlier." Rick nodded, chewing thoughtfully.

"Did you get anything to drink then?" There was something in his voice that made me unable to answer him right away. It was as if he didn't believe me anymore, he looked at me sideways, chewing slowly. I felt my hands begin to sweat on the glass table.

"Uh, yeah." I pulled my good hand down under the table and saw my sweaty, hand print on the glass before it dried. "After Christy came home from shopping." He nodded and finally looked away, back to his wife and kept talking.

"But wait," Christy interrupted him. "What did you get to drink?"

"Some water," I coughed.

"Bottled, not tap?" She frowned, I nodded. "But I didn't buy any water bottles and I didn't see any cups out."

"I mean tap," I said quickly. "And I washed out my cup and put it away."

"But you can hardly dress yourself," Rick said skeptically. "How did you reach up to the cupboard that high?"

"I didn't," I said, my brain working quickly. "I put it in the dishwasher." Rick and Christy exchanged a long silent look. "Can I be excused?"

"Sure, go ahead," Rick said absentmindedly. I got up quickly, snapping the end of the red crayon in Davie's hand.

"Hey!" He protested.

"Sorry little man," I mumbled, touching the top of his head before turning around and heading outside. It was dark out and I was walking too fast, my eyes unadjusted as I stumbled down the steps, nearly falling.

"Shane?" I looked up and saw Evelyn stepping over the low shrubs that separated out houses. "Are you okay? You almost ate cement."

"Yeah, I missed the step," I explained. I patted my pockets, feeling my cigarette carton and pulled it out, extracting a cigarette. I placed it in between my lips and tried to light my lighter. It sparked but went out each time I tried it. "Fuck."

"Here, let me try." She took the lighter from me and quickly flicked a flame. I bent over and put the end of my cigarette into the flame and breathed in until it was lit.

"Thanks," I said, taking the lighter from her and putting it back in my pocket. "Do you want one?"

"I don't smoke," she said simply. I nodded, taking a long drag. "I heard you fainted today."

"Jesus," I hissed under my breath. "Am I in some reality show where cameras follow me around all damn day or what?"

"No," she said just as simply as before, not taking my snub. "Your step mom told my mom, I heard them talking." I rolled my eyes, silently cursing Christy and exhaled the blue-gray smoke. "Are you alright?" I was surprised by the way she asked. Usually when someone asked me if I was okay, they were just talking and not listening for the answer, but her green eyes were locked on mine.

"Not really, no." I admitted.

"What's wrong then?" She was wearing a black, pull over sweater and shorts, her feet bare. She pulled on the strings of her hood, waiting for my answer patiently.

"I think I swallowed too much salt water or something," I took a drag before continuing. "My arm hurts like hell and my stitches are uncomfortable. Plus, I'm stuck here and I acted like an asshole to my mom and my sister…"

"Is it also because of your friend?"

"Who? Kevin?" That reminded me that I had to call him.

"No, the ones that went missing." My eyes flashed to her face and away down to the pavement. "They doubt they're alive anymore. But you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, I understand."

"Thanks," I mumbled, feeling weird. I flicked my cigarette to the ground and stomped it out. "Where do you go to school Evelyn?" I turned the focus on to her.

"Bodega High, why?" She titled her head to the side slightly and I couldn't help but think how adorable that was.

"Just wondering," I shrugged. "I have to clean up the parking lot there tomorrow morning."

"As part of your community service? Christy talked about that too."

"I'm going to have to talk to Christy," I mumbled. "Yeah, for my hours."

"Evelyn?" We both looked to see Mrs. McCreedy standing in the doorway. I couldn't see much of her, the porch light was weak but I could see she was holding a phone against her collar bone. "You need to come inside now." Even from this distance I saw her eyes flick to me. My back straightened automatically.

"Since when?" Evelyn scowled.

"Please do not argue with me, get inside." She gave me a hard look before going back into the house to continue her conversation. Evelyn sighed and rolled her eyes, turning back to me.

"She doesn't like me," I smirked.

"No," she admitted. "She's overprotective of me."

"Maybe she should be," I murmured.

"And why is that? Are you dangerous Shane?" She tilted her head again, her eyes light and not judgmental.

I looked up to her house, the curtain behind a window snapped shut. "And if I said I was?" I looked back down to her. She looked me over shortly and said softly:

"Even if I decided to believe you that you are dangerous, I don't think it's intentional or that you would hurt me. I feel very safe around you." She turned away from me then, stepping back over the shrubs but she turned around halfway to her door, walking backwards. "Goodnight Shane Monroe."

"Goodnight Evelyn," I barely whispered. She smiled at me before turning around and walking into her house, shutting the door behind her.

I chuckled once, looked up at the stars in the dark sky and walked inside the house. The TV was on now, the door to Rick's office shut and I could hear Christy talking. I slowed once I neared the living room. "Oh wait, I think he just walked inside the house. He did what? Maybe we should keep Shane and Evelyn away from each other for—" I stormed around the corner and Christy stopped talking mid sentence, her mouth still open. "Oh, hi Shane."

"What the fuck is your problem Christy?" I demanded. "Why do you have to talk about _my_ life?"

"I uh…" her eyes darted around the living room, but only Davie was here and he was too busy watching TV.

"Why can't you mind your own goddamn business?" I shouted, I was really heated. "You always butt in and say shit when you shouldn't. What the fuck is your problem?"

"Shane stop this," she tried to sound stern but failed, her hand clutched the phone still at her ear. "I'm going to tell your father." She moved to step around me but I grabbed her arm, forgetting my pain for a second, and pulled her back, stepping in her way. "Shane, let go of me."

I dropped her arm but didn't move. "Hang up that phone now and stop telling everyone shit that they don't need to fucking know. Mind your _own goddamn business for once_!"

"Rick!" She shouted, her knuckles turning white on the phone. The door to Dick's office flew open and he was standing with us in less than five seconds.

"What's going on?" He demanded, taking in my furious posture as I loomed over my step mom, breathing hard as she bowed her head slightly, obviously trying to avoid my anger.

"Shane just walked in here and started yelling at me!" She whined.

"_Bullshit_ I did!" I shouted, sort of proving her point in a way. "She needs to mind her own fucking business and stop talking to the entire goddamn neighborhood about me. This isn't your life Christy, I'm _not your son_ you can't gossip about me to everyone."

"Shane, just take a step back and breathe," Rick advised, putting one arm around me and trying to back me up.

"Don't touch me Dick," I shoved him back, a little harder than I had meant to. He lost his footing but didn't fall, just bumped into the table, knocking over the vase. Glass shattered and water sprayed every where, the pink chrysanthemums lying limply in the mess on the carpet. Automatically, I felt ashamed, I hadn't meant to break anything. I was just heated.

"Go to your room," Rick said tightly, looking at the broken vase and not at me.

"I'm not a child," I hissed.

"Go to your room!" He bellowed…well bellowed for _him_.

"Fine! Whatever!" I shouted in his face. I pushed past Christy and ran up the stairs, taking three at a time before slamming my door closed.

I leaned back heavily against my door, breathing deeply to calm myself down a bit. I reached into my pocket and palmed a few pain pills, both my arms starting to throb. I kicked off my shoes there against the door and worked my shirt off over my head, it was easier now. I had gone out and bought a few tank tops so I wouldn't have to deal with all the fabric twisting up my arms as I tried to take them off.

It worked thankfully, I tossed my shirt onto the floor and kicked off my jeans, strewing them over the floor. I still hadn't turned my light on yet so I stood in the dark for a moment before looking out my window finally. I didn't move from where I was, just peeked out and saw her. Evelyn was sitting at her vanity mirror, reading a book, her head propped up on her hand as she read quietly. She had tied her long hair up into a ponytail and traded her shorts for a pair of ratty sweats. She wasn't wearing any makeup, as usual, and yet she looked so radiant to me.

I thought about my latest ex girlfriend, Melinda Foster, and all the make up she wore. I hadn't liked it when we dated, an I still didn't. I'd take her out to dinner somewhere or we'd just be sitting in my car and all she would do was cake on her makeup with fat brushes and gloppy sticks. She didn't talk much, she was pretty rude and a pain in the ass, come to think of it.

Evelyn closed her book, bringing me back to the present. She reached over under her lamp and turned it off, stretched her arms up over her head, the bottom of her sweater rising up over her hips. I should have looked away or dove for my bed, something, but I just staid where I was. She turned around and saw me standing here, looking at her and she smiled. Not a timid, shy — awkward smile but a bright, happy one like she was happy to see me staring at her.

I smiled back, surprised about how easy it was to smile with her even when we weren't in the same room — house for that matter, not even talking. I raised my cast enclosed arm and waved slightly. She laughed, the sound lost behind glass and waved back. Then, she hurried over to her window and blew out a puff of air, fogging it up. Slowly and carefully she wrote the words: Goodnight, see you tomorrow, in the fog.

I walked over and copied her, taking a little bit longer to write the words backwards so she could read them:

Sweet dreams Evelyn.

I stepped back and saw her smiling again. She waved one last time and then turned away from me, climbing into her bed. I chuckled softly and went to my own bed and crawled under the cool sheets tiredly.

I was facing a dark wall. It looked like it was made out of cement but I couldn't be so sure. I could smell trees and I was aware of stars twinkling above me. I felt a cold brush of air and my skin prickled, my hair on my arms standing. Something warm dripped down over my bare shoulders and my head, running down my chest and over my face. I reached a hand to my face and wiped my cheek, red blood illuminated by the moon.

Before I could move or react in anyway, a cold hand wrapped around my mouth and pulled me back. "Do you like this Shane?" A overly familiar voice hissed so close to my ear. "Why don't you see what it's like." Dean shoved me backwards, releasing me. I fell further than the ground, into a deep hole, my arm flailing. I hit the earth with a splash as dark liquid flared up around me. I tried to stay up, afloat but Dean jumped in after me and shoved me under.

He pulled me back out and held me by my shoulders, glaring at me. "Do you know what if feels like Shane?!" He shouted, spitting out blood on my face. "Do you _know what it feels like to die_?" He shoved me under again, keeping me under as I thrashed and kicked, fighting to get up. Dean lifted me again, my head rolling backwards. "Look at me Shane!" I struggled but I complied. His skin was rotten and peeling away from the bone, discolored muscle and yellowed bone underneath glared at me. His eyes were sunken in, black pits surrounding them. Half of the back of his head was missing, ragged, bloody chunks opened like claws, showing his skull and brains, even the bullet. "Look at what you did to me!"

Marks hands shot out from below me and pulled me under.

I woke up with a gasp, sitting up and looking around frantically. I was in my room again, the alarm clock radio going off. I swallowed hard, my breathing erratic. I reached over and slapped it off and leaned back against the headboard, covering my face with my hands.

"Shane, hurry up!" Rick called from down stairs. "I'm going to drop you off on my way to work." I ignored him and lowered my hands. I was covered in beads of sweat, the sheets tangled between my legs, half off the bed. I untangled myself, popped a few pain pills and went down the hall to the shower.

I don't think it would have been as bad if they didn't make me wear this stupid neon orange vest with the words: Property of Bodega Bay Police Department in bold on the back. But there I was, in front of the fucking high school wearing this bright ass vest with a garbage bag in my gloved hands, cleaning up the parking lot.

I glared back at the assholes that laughed at me, and pointed as they talked openly to their friends about me. It was fucking early too, a little after seven in the goddamn morning. The sky still had that gray, fog to it and the air still smelt too crisp. I bent and picked up a half empty soda bottle as a car pulled up to the empty parking space next to me.

Two girls stepped out. One was Evelyn. If I hadn't seen her, I would have recognized the other girl was the hostess from the restaurant. She hadn't seen me yet, I had recognized her dark hair and turned away.

"Hey, Shane." I turned around a bit surprised and saw Evelyn walking over to me.

"Hey Evelyn," I said, wishing I could burn this vest.

"What are you doing?" She chuckled, but it wasn't a bitchy laugh it was a cute laugh.

"Picking up garbage, Officer Moore assigned me to it," I shrugged.

"I like your vest," she reached over and flicked the strip of reflective tape on the front, smiling. "It brings out your eyes." I laughed.

"Uhm Evelyn." The other girl called her.

"Hang on a sec Courtney," she called over her shoulder, turning back to me. "I have to go to class but if you want, you can come over after school today. I have a pool and it's pretty hot out, and my dad was planning on having this lame barbeque—"

"I'll be there," I cut her off as nicely as I could.

"Really?" God, her smile was so beautiful.

"Sure, I might have to check my schedule. There's a lot of filthy parking lots here."

"Shut up," she pushed my shoulder and started backing up to her friend. "Just come over around three-thirty."

"I'll be there," I repeated.

"And bring your vest!" And then she turned around and walked into the building with the blonde chick.

I was pretty stoked, I'll admit it. I started picking up the trash absentmindedly as I thought about her smile. Shit, I thought suddenly. Her dad hates me. He had more reason to than he would believe, but I wanted to hang out with Evelyn. My thoughts were interrupted when a squad car pulled into the parking lot. My first instincts were to get the fuck out of there, but then I thought to myself: They don't know, they don't know. It pulled up next to me and Officer Moore rolled down the window.

"How you holding up?" He asked.

"Wonderful," I held up the disgusting garbage bag.

"Alright," he nodded slowly, giving me a hard look. My heart was racing, I knew he could sense it some how with his cop-vision or some shit. He knew I was guilty. "Just checking…I'll see you later."

"Right." He pulled away slowly then and I turned to watch him leave, my heart crashing. When his taillights were gone around the corner, my breath came out with a whooshing sound and I sank back a bit against a car, falling on my ass in the parking lot. I felt sick. I put my elbows on my knees and held the sides of my head, my stress stance and sucked in air through my nose.

"Young man are you alright?" I looked up and saw a fat man in a stripped vest sweater walking over to me. He had a brief case in one had and big glasses. I dropped my hands and nodded.

"Yeah, just not feeling good."

"Well you're either lying or you must have done something pretty awful."

"Excuse me?" I frowned.

"The cop car," he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. "I saw how you reacted."

"That's none of your business sir." He shrugged and left. I took a few deep breaths and got to my feet to finish picking up garbage. It was still warm out but there was a breeze from the ocean that smelled of sea salt. The smell made my throat dry and my stomach church as I thought of all the hours I had spent, hurling up salt water puke.

I bent and scooped up a few cigarette butts and tossed them in the bag along with an empty soda bottle and a few pieces of lost homework papers. I thought of my car back at home and my school. I wondered what everyone back at school thought of me, moving as soon as Dean and Mark….went missing. They probably blamed me, me moving would only make their assumptions stronger.

And what about Samantha? If anyone hassled her at school because of what I did, I would go down and beat the hell out of them. I thought of a few kids at school harassing Samantha, saying that he brother was a loser and a murderer. It made me angry, I had to stop a few times and take a few deep breathes.

The school bell rang for the end of first period and not so shortly after, kids flooded around the school on their way to classrooms. I tried to ignore them as well as I could but a football was lobbed my way, nearly hitting my face. I glanced up and saw a group of boys, jocks in their lettermen jackets, laughing. I grabbed the football and reached into my pocket, finding the pocket knife I had always taken with me ever since I was backed up into a corner my sophomore year by a kid I had teased who had a knife in his hand. I escaped with a cut on my shoulder and he was arrested, but I never forgot my knife though I never had a reason for it.

I left the parking lot, marching over to the ass who had thrown the ball. I was several inches taller than his short, stocky build and he seemed even shorter as he took a step back from me. I stabbed the tip of the knife into the football, it popped as air escaped it, the blade slicing the leather. I thrust the ruined football into his chest.

"I think you dropped this," I said, closing my knife and putting it in my pocket.

"Uh…" His jaw flopped open, glancing at his buds for help, but they didn't say anything them selves. "Thanks."

"Sure thing." They walked away then, shuffling quickly. I heard snickering so I looked over and felt my stomach dropped when I saw Evelyn and her friend Courtney watching me. Courtney was watching the jocks walk away with a strange, pinched expression, her arm wrapped through Evelyn's. Evelyn was staring at me with her mouth slightly puckered, her eyes wide like she was deciding something.

The back of my neck felt cold, dripping down my spine into my stomach. I felt sick, I wanted to crawl under a rock. Courtney tugged Evelyn's arm then and the two walked away with the rush of kids. When everyone had cleared the yard, the halls were empty and the classrooms full, I finally turned back and continued cleaning the parking lot.

I got home at around nine, collapsing on the couch exhaustedly. I woke up a few hours later and looked at the clock, it was ten after five. Evelyn. I jumped out of bed, throwing off the stupid vest I was still wearing and ran out of my room. I was hurrying down the stairs, past Rick the Dick.

"Where are you going?" He asked.

"Evelyn's house." And then I was out the door. Her father's car was parked in the drive way and I could hear music coming from the back yard. I went to the front door and rang the bell. I shuffled my feet, wondering when the hell she was going to open the door. And then it opened and Evelyn's father Tom McCreedy was standing in front of me, looking down at me from the tip of his nose.

"Shane? What are you doing here?"

"Is Evelyn home?"

"What do you need Shane?" He asked it in one of those fake ass concerned tones, where he really just wants me the fuck off his property and away from his daughter but he pretends to be worried about me. You know the tone.

"Evelyn invited me over."

"She did?" Didn't I just fucking say that?

"Yeah." There was an awkward silence. I could tell he was thinking of ways to tell his daughter to never invite me over, let alone speak to me again.

"Dad? Who is it?" And then she appeared. She was…I can't describe it. She was wearing a pair of shorts that were stained with bleach, but on accident none of that expensive crap that looks like you bought them at a thrift shop. On purpose. She wasn't wearing a shirt but a dark purple bathing suit top that almost matched the color of her hair. Her hair was pulled up into a sloppy pony tail, pieces of hair sticking out and hardly even in the rubber band holding it together. She didn't appear to be wearing any make up, she didn't need any. "Hi Shane," she smiled. She had dimples.

"Hey, sorry I'm late. I fell asleep." She, very obviously but still, politely pushed her dad out of the way so I could walk into the house.

"It's fine, but I was wondering when you were going to get here." Tom hung back as Evelyn lead me through her house. She didn't stop to point out the huge stair case, the vases or stereo systems everywhere and didn't tell me to take off my shoes so I wouldn't ruin the carpet.

Out on the backyard, a woman was lying very still in the sun with one of those big hats and sunglasses. Evelyn didn't introduce her, so I didn't bother.

"Hungry?" Evelyn asked me, standing next to a table covered in hot dog necessities.

"Yeah," I admitted and she laughed. I walked over next to her and started putting together a hot dog. I was a little surprised to see her load up her plate with two of the jumbo hot dogs. Most girls I had dated hardly ever ate around me, they seemed shy. She was different.

We took our plates over to the side of the pool and Evelyn dipped her feet in as we ate, facing the house but where no one could hear us talk.

"Tell me about you," she said, taking a bite of her food. I chewed and swallowed mine before answering.

"What do you want to know about me?" I prayed she didn't notice the way my throat sounded all dry or how I suddenly didn't feel hungry any more. She shrugged.

"What's one memory that makes you laugh from when you were little?" Fuck. None. But I thought about it for a minute, looking at the edge of the water as I tried to remember.

"When I was seven and my sister Samantha was five, I tied a dollar on the end of a string and made her chase it," I shrugged. "And on Halloween one year, I hid in a box and my mom told Samantha that it was a present. She was about to open it but I jumped out and scared her so bad she pissed herself."

Evelyn gaffed, covering her mouth and I laughed. "I bet she was pretty mad."

"Yeah, but she got over it. Tell me something about you, from your past."

"Okay," she nodded, putting down her plate on her lap. "When we went to Disney Land for my tenth birthday, I followed the guy dressed up as Peter Pan around. And when he finally noticed me, I asked him if I could be his Wendy." I laughed, but I tried to press my lips together to stop because she was blushing even though she was laughing.

"Let's go swimming," she announced, standing up on the ledge of the pool.

"I don't have anything to swim in," I pointed out. "And I have a cast." I lifted my arm as evidence.

"Go in your boxers," she shrugged, taking off her shorts. "And you can always get a new cast."

"Wouldn't your dad be pissed?" I glanced around and saw him leaving the backyard to go inside the house. It was just her mom or whoever outside with us.

"My dad can't tell you what to do, Shane," she shrugged. Well, alright I decided. I stood up beside her and pulled off my shirt, dropping it next to my plate. She waited patiently while I kicked off my pants, the buckle of my belt hitting the ledge with a clank.

"See," she smiled, placing her hand on my arm. "He can't stop you if you've already done it." I nodded.

"True. Will you stop me?"

"From what?" She cocked her head. I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into the pool with me. She screamed but it was half laugh and when we hit the water, it pulled me away from her. There was bubbles everywhere some were stuck to my skin and some blocked my eyes. But I felt her hands touch my back and I turned around to see her. Evelyn's dark hair was alive in the water, waving like some anemia attached to her head. She had her lips pressed together to keep the air in but her eyes were smiling at me.

We were both trying to stay underwater and not breathe so even though it was slightly uncomfortable…it was…comfortable. The way she was holding my shoulder in one hand and the other moved almost lazily in the water to keep her still, her hair moving everywhere and how her eyes looked like they were laughing made me feel comfortable. I wanted to stay under the water but then my lungs started to burn like hell so we swam to the top.

Hanging out with Evelyn was pretty cool. We swam for a while, ate a few hot dogs, lay out by the pool and talked. We did a lot of talking. She seemed to know when I got uncomfortable telling her something, so she would just change the subject to a book, a movie or a sport and keep going. She told me about how distant she and her mom were—she was the lady still lying motionless in the sun—and that she had an older brother in college. Her dad wanted her to get straight A's in school and become a lawyer or senator of state, some of that kind of bullshit.

"What do you want to do?" I asked, eating a strawberry from the bowl in front of us as we lay out on the grass on a towel next to each other.

"I don't really want to do anything," she shrugged. "I want to travel the world to places like Africa and help out with people who are starving or have some kind of disease. I don't want to be living everyday from nine to five behind a desk or in front of a podium. I want to lay on the dirt ground in a hut with flies buzzing around in the hot night air."

"Your flies or someone else's?"

"Ha, ha," she nudged me with her shoulder. "What do you want to do with your life?" I dropped the leafy end of the strawberry into the bowl and kinda just paused for a while. I turned over onto my back and looked up at the little pin points of light in the sky, I could feel her watching me. There was no way they wouldn't fund out, I wouldn't have a life.

"Come on," she stood up, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet. I didn't say anything just followed her back into her house and up the stairs. We went into her room and she shut the door. I had already seen her room…through the window, but it was messier than I would have thought. She started rummaging through her drawers and grabbed one of those wraps things and tied it around her hips.

"You don't keep your blinds closed," she said suddenly, turning around to face me with a smirk.

"Are you spying on me Miss Evelyn?" I smirked back.

"A little, but thankfully it was just me and not some strange predator, secretly watching you change after your showers."

"I think I'd be safer with a predator," I teased. Fuck, I shouldn't even be here.

"What's wrong?" She asked, her brows pulling together.

"Uh nothing, I've got to go. I'm trying this new thing where everyone doesn't hate me, so I should get home."

"I will walk you."

We went and grabbed my clothes from the back, I said goodbye to her dad as we walked down the stairs. I tried to be diplomatic but he was giving me a harsh look. I had to acknowledge the fact that no father in the entire world would be pleased with a freak disaster like me to be in alone in his daughter's room. He nodded, his eyes tight. Mrs. McCreedy was wearing the exact same silk robe as Christy, and looking deeply into a mirror, running a finger over her cheekbone.

"Goodnight Mrs. McCreedy," I said on our way to the front door. She flickered her eyes over to me in the mirror and dug into a little makeup pouch in front of her. She took out a tube of lip gloss and became dabbing it on very carefully with the wand.

"Good bye," she said finally. Evelyn rolled her eyes and lead me outside, shutting the door.

"She was a beauty pageant queen," she explained while we walked slowly over the dark lawn. "When her parents died in a fire, all this debt was dumped on her so she married my father for compensation."

"You're very open about your life, aren't you?"

"Pretty much," she nodded. "But what is there to hide?"

"You're lucky," I smirked dryly. "Most people don't have that leisure."

We reached my porch then and walked up the steps to the door. "They do but they choose not to. I had fun," she smiled when I turned around to her.

"I did too," I smiled back. "Thanks for inviting me over."

"Sure," she stepped over to me quickly and kissed my cheek before stepping down backward off the step. "Don't be a stranger Shane, stop by whenever."

She stepped over the shrubs and headed towards her own house.

"You're different, you know that?" I called after her.

"I'm aware," she smiled. "And you're cute, did you know that?"

"I'm aware." She laughed and I went inside the house. The lights were off but the flicker of blue light from the TV danced over the wall. I readjusted my hold on my clothes and walked over towards the stairs.

"Shane?" It was Rick.

"What?" I didn't stop as I started up the stairs to my room, trying to be quiet for at least Davie.

"Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah."

"What did you do?" I heard the couch groan as he leaned forward to try and see me around the wall.

"Hung out." He got the hint finally and sat back against the couch.

"Good night Shane."

"Night." I walked across the landing to my room and shut the door, tossing my close on the corner of my bed before they slid down to the floor. My window was open. I looked and saw Evelyn standing in front of her window, her eyes one me. We both chuckled in our own rooms at getting caught. She waved and I waved back before she pulled down the blinds.

I grabbed a towel off the floor to towel off my hair and grabbed a pair of boxers from my dresser and put those on before climbing into bed, tired. My cast was soggy and peeling, I would have to get a new one so my bones could grow back normally. I got back out of bed and took out my pain pills from my pant pockets and after I took a couple I climbed back in bed.


	8. Normality

Chapter 8. Normality

I started seeing Evelyn around a lot more often over the next couple weeks. I'd go pick up trash at her school in the morning and she would be sure to get there extra early so we could hang out and talk before her classes started. She would pick up a few pieces of trash and toss them into the bag at out feet while we talked. When the bell rang, I would wait until she was gone before going down to the police station and checking in with Officer Moore. Every time he saw me, he would give me a strange at me like he knew something was up before asking how I was. I couldn't help but feel sick to my stomach as I signed in my name and left. I always left in a hurry.

When I got home I would make sure everyone was out of the house before spending some time to myself and then climb up the steep ass roof to smoke a few joints. Up on the roof I could see a whole lot of Bodega Bay and its tall buildings and bridges, the Amtrak huffing along. I hated it. I wanted to go home.

I stopped by Rick's office a few times just for something to do, to bug him a little I guess. I don't really know why I went; it wasn't to hang out with the freaks in the waiting room or the heavy woman secretary with too much make up and a bad perm. If Rick was ever going to leave Christy for his secretary…I hope it wasn't her. But I sat in the folding chairs in the lobby, listening to the people around me tapping their hands and feet, scratching compulsively at their arms, chewing on their finger nails or humming to themselves. The scratches, biters and hummers all got up and went through the back door behind the heavy secretary's desk and left about an hour later.

By then, I would be lounging across the now empty seats, flipping through the glossy Self Help magazines on display. Wasn't that kind of ironic for a shrink to have self help magazines everywhere? Wasn't the point to have Rick help them and steal their money, instead of them helping themselves? I always made sure I was gone before Rick finished for the day; I even planned my daily trips down to the Looney bin carefully. From the hours nine to three were his busiest, that's when all the nut jobs came running over to stuff the lobby with their scratching, tapping, biting and humming while they waited for the Great Dick behind the curtain to grant them a small dose of sanity that came in a little yellow bottle that rattled.

He never excused himself to use the restroom or to get a new cup of coffee when he had a patient in the room. But in between patients every once in a while, he would hurry off to the bathroom. I would duck into the hall when he passed, not letting him see me. He never knew that I was there, watching as a crazed patient with frizzy red hair, blood shot eyes that looked lost, blotchy skin and thin limbs walked stiffly into his office and reemerged looking more put together and calm enough to ignore the voices whispering in her head.

When I left early, I would go back to the house in time to see Evelyn get home. Apparently her father, Tom had told her to not hang out with me anymore, but she didn't care. When he told her that after school, he didn't want me over she complained and argued with him to get him to settle on an agreement. The agreement was that I had to wait at least three hours for her to get her homework done, study time, chores done and have time to eat dinner before I came over for at least an hour and a half. But we were cheating. We both put a chair in front of our bedroom windows and spoke to each other across the fence.

Sometimes we didn't really talk, I just watched her do her homework in front of the window quietly. She would tuck a strand of her dark hair behind her ear as she concentrated on whatever she was working on. When I got the green light, I would go over to her house for my nearly two hours. We would sit in the backyard, we weren't allowed alone in her room, so we sat by the pool and talked. We did a lot of talking.

I had been living with my father for a little over three weeks now. Mom had called twice every week to check up on me.

"I'm fine mom," I groaned for the millionth fucking time as I hung half way off my bed with the phone in my hand, the cord wrapped around me from all the times I turned over.

"Are you getting along with everyone? How's your community service going?"

"Fine mom," I sighed. My eyes were filling with black spots as all the blood rushed to my head from sitting like this. I craned my neck and the top of my head brushed the carpeted floor. "I'm getting along with everyone and picking up after people." She started babbling about how happy she was that I was getting 'better' and how proud she was that I was 'changing' and that all she ever wanted was for me to be 'good and loving'. Pissed off, I put the phone on my chest while she continued to blab and just sort of hung there on the edge of my bed for a minute.

Finally she stopped gushing so I picked up the phone again and put it to my ear. "Mom I got to go, Davie's stuck in the chimney again. Bye." I hung up without waiting for her and went to stretch and put the phone cradle back on my night stand. But my weight shifted and I fell off the bed with a hard thud, rolling on my back so that my head was towards the bed. A shiver passed through me from the crown of my head and down my spine. It wasn't one of those light chills you get from a gust of a cold wind, but the kind that makes the muscles in your neck tighten. I jerk around after a long second and met a pair of blue eyes sunken in around deep, black circles. His brown hair was caked in dirt and his pail skin was smeared in dried blood and sticky black goo dripped from Dean's mouth.

"Fuck," I breathed, shoving myself back hard enough against the amour to make it sway a little. But Dean was gone. The only thing I saw under my bed was a few piles of clothes and dark space. "Fuck," I repeated, my heart was pounding like a fucking war drum in my goddamn ears. I took a few deep breathes, staring at the empty space under my bed. Finally, I pushed myself up with my shaking hands and numbly left my room.

It was late enough for Rick to come home but Christy and Davie had already been home for a couple hours. Davie was sitting at the kitchen table while Christy made dinner. "Are you alright Shane?" She walked over before I could say anything and put her hand on my forehead. "You don't have a fever."

"I'm fine," I repeated my earlier words and pulled away. "What are you cooking?"

"Meatloaf and corn," she nodded as she went back to the stove. "Hungry?" I looked at the corn husks in the garbage beside her and my stomach churned. I pressed my lips together to keep from throwing up and shook my head. I turned to the fridge and pulled it open. It was one of those stupid high-tech ones that had a compartment for every little fucking thing. I found a soda and popped the tab before sucking it down quickly. When I glanced over my shoulder and saw that Christy wasn't looking, I grabbed the rest of the corn out of the fridge and shut it closed.

I meant to sneak out of the room but she stopped me without turning around. "Officer Moore called while you were on the phone." I froze the cold corn in my hands, my eyes on the hardwood.

"What did he say?"

"He wants you to call him back," she put something into the pan where it sizzled. "And that they no longer think Dean was kidnapped but murdered. They're looking for his body and want to see if you know anything." I nodded though she couldn't see it and ducked out the back door.

I walked around the side of the house to the garbage cans and threw out all the corn into the garbage and slammed the lid shut.

They know, they know, they fucking know. My stomach heaved again and this time I couldn't stop it. I buckled and threw up beside the side of the house. When I could breathe again, I swallowed hard to get the acidic burn out of my throat and wiped my mouth, spitting the remains out. I couldn't take this any longer.

I went back into the house and up to my room again, locking the door behind me. I snatched the phone off my table and sat down on the edge of my bed and dialed Officer Moore.

"Officer Moore speaking," he answered.

"Uhm, its Shane Monroe…" I cleared my throat. "You called earlier?"

"Yes, hello Shane." His voice became louder, more clearer and I imagined him sitting up at my name, ready to sentence me to jail forever. "As you know, it's been over a month since Dean Stevenson and Mark Stacie have been missing…" This is where they waited for you to falter when they suspected you, he wanted my voice to crack, for me to stutter or play dumb.

"Mm-hm," I hummed my voice already about to crack.

"We no longer are considering this a simple case of two teens running away with all their money from dealing. We believe these boys may not be alive…"

"So…" I took a deep breath, closing my eyes. "Who do you think did it?"

"We have a suspect," he said slowly. Fuck fuck fuck.

"Oh." There was a long pause on his side of the line.

"Do you have any idea where these boys' bodies are or who might have killed them?"

"No."

"You were friends with Dean Stevenson, correct?"

"Mm-hm," I shifted on the bed.

"His parents aren't living together anymore; his younger sister is staying with a relative during this. They're considering a divorce and if that happens Mr. Stevenson will lose everything because his wife is the one making all the money. Did you know Mark Stacie, Shane?"

"Not really, he lived a few towns over." I chewed on my lip.

"Well, as I'm sure you know, his father Officer Stacie has taken a leave of absence for the next two weeks. Mrs. Stacie died when Mark was four and it had been just his dad and him since then. Officer Stacie is going through a hard time right now; his son was all he had. Even if his boy and the Stevenson boy are truly dead, it would mean a lot to finally know what happened to both families. If you know anything Shane — anything, be sure to call and let me know. And I'll be sure, in return, that you are treated equally." Treated equally, he knew I did it; he was talking about in prison.

"I'm sorry sir," I coughed. Damn. "I don't know any more than you do." Again, he paused.

"Well alright son, you have my number. If you find anything out give me a call, alright?"

"Uh-huh." My throat squeezed. He said goodbye and hung before I did. I slammed the receiver back down into the cradle and sucked in air. I felt sick.

I darted for the bathroom and hardly made it over the bowl before everything was shooting out of my stomach. I flushed the vomit down and sat back on my haunches with a groan.

"Shane are you sick?" Rick asked, knocking on the bathroom door.

"Yeah," I called out, buckling as a stab of pain jarred through my side. He opened the door and flicked on the light, stinging my eyes. He crouched down beside me in his pajamas, his hand on my shoulder.

"Did you eat something bad?" He asked. I shook my head, wrapping my arms around my sides. "Are you coming down with something?"

"No." God I wanted to tell him. The words clawed at the inside of my throat, my lips twitching and tingling as I fought to keep the truth inside.

"What is this about Shane? Did you take something?" I thought about it for a moment and shook my head again. He shifted his weight to his left heal, his eyes studying me. "Dean." Pain flared through my gut and I wrenched forward, dry heaving into the bowl, nothing coming up. When I finished hacking and coughing, he pulled me back by my shoulders.

"I can do this on my own Rick," I told him.

"No. You can't." He stood and left then, leaving the light on and the door open. I sat back on my ass against the cool porcelain tub, the chill a welcoming feeling on my hot skin. Rick reappeared then with a pink bottle of Pepto Bismol and a tall glass of baking soda. He handed me the two and I grudgingly drank the pink goo and quickly chased it down with the bubbly baking soda.

The goo only made my stomach hurt more and the next time I puked it was pink. "Are you worried about your friends?" Rick asked, handing me a wad of toilet paper. I nodded as I wiped my mouth.

"Dean was one of my best friends." And I killed him. Rick said something but I wasn't paying attention, I was debating whether or not to tell him. What would the consequences be? Rick was a shrink, he had an obligation of confidentiality but I wasn't one of his delusional patients. I was his freak — mistake for a son. He would be obligated to tell the police and then I would be arrested and so would Kevin. Was prison really worth all this guilt and anxiety?

I would probably be in for life. I would miss my mom, I admitted, and even Samantha's blabber mouth. I wouldn't get the chance to miss Kevin; he'd be in jail with me. I wouldn't miss Rick, fuck that shit. I definitely wouldn't miss Christy and her nosey phone calls. I would miss Davie, I couldn't doubt that. After I had ruined my cast, getting reprimanded by the doctor who slapped on a new one, I let Davie color the entire thing. There was flames, more Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, race cars, Bugs Bunny and a stick figure drawing of me and Davie together. It was disproportioned of course, his little seven year old mind couldn't give Monet a run for his money, but it was cute nonetheless. I thought about his chubby cheeks, bright blue eyes, wavy black hair and small little kid nose. He reminded me a lot of myself when I was his age, but happier.

Just as I was thinking of him, Davie dragged his feet into view by the door.

"Daddy," he groaned his eyes half closed. He was wearing flannel button down pajamas holding a Jar Jar Binks doll from Star Wars in his hand. He had the print of a pillow or a bed sheet stamped across his cheek and chin, his pajamas ruffled. "Is there something wrong with Shane? And I heard you say a name, who's Dean?" Another wave of pain washed over me, spots filling my eyes. I bent over the toilet bowl, puking up something green-ish and foaming.

I felt Rick's hands on my shoulders, holding me up as more green foamy puke. "Yes, he's very sick. Go back to bed."

"I can't, you're making too much noise. Can I sleep in Shane's room?"

"No Davie, Shane is—"

"No let him. It's okay Davie, go crawl in bed." I told him, turning my head away from the puke. Davie smiled at me tiredly and shuffled into my room with his Jar Jar Binks doll.

"That was nice of you Shane." Rick said.

"Whatever." I groped for the cup of Baking soda and gulped it quickly. I started to stand and Rick helped me, handing me a big salad bowl I hadn't seen him bring in and place on the sink.

"If you need me, just call for me." I nodded and walked away from the bathroom to my room. Davie was lying in my bed in the spot I usually slept in, his Star Wars doll wrapped up in his arms. I grinned in the dark and glanced out my window, but Evelyn's room was dark. I set the bowl on the floor and crawled into bed next to him.

He turned over to face me, his little hands under the pillow, his cheeks squished slightly. "Hi buddy," I whispered, lying my head down on the pillow next to his.

"Hi Shane," he smiled. "Do you like the drawings on your cast?"

"Yeah, they're great. I love them." He yawned, pinching his eyes closed.

"Good," he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "Hey Shane?"

"Hmm?" I hummed.

"Why do you keep getting sick?" I opened my eyes and saw him looking at me, his blue eyes full of curiosity. But there was something else there too. He looked up to me; I could tell he wanted to be like me. I quickly thought about the times he followed me around here, copying what I did, concentrating on my every move. He only wore his black shirts now and even asked if he could pierce his eyebrow like me. His mom almost chocked on her coffee but it had made me smile. But now I wasn't smiling, something inside of me was breaking. I could almost feel it pulling apart and snapping with a crunching — grinding noise as I looked at Davie's sweet, innocent face. I couldn't let him be like me. That would be the worst thing I could ever do for him.

"I'm not a good kid," I told him. "I do stupid things that hurt my mom and our father. I did something _very_ stupid, very dangerous. And I feel horrible about it, that's why I've been getting sick." He might have been only seven years old, half asleep and I haven't even told him everything, but somehow it made me feel a little better.

"What did you do?" He frowned. "Is it like the time I poured mommy's smelly perfume down the drain?" I laughed and pulled the covers up over his shoulders.

"No, not like that. Something I wish every day that I didn't do. You'll find out when you're a little bit older. Okay?"

"Okay," he yawned again. "Shane, why do you do drugs? I heard mommy and daddy talking about it."

"I don't know Davie," I whispered. "Because I'm a bad kid."

"You're not bad," he said, his eyes closing. "You just yell a lot." I chuckled solemnly and moved over so I could kiss the top of his head.

"Goodnight Davie."

"Night Shane." He put his hand on mine and began to snore softly. I put my hand on the back of his head, smoothing back his hair as I watched him. I would miss him so much if this all blew over.

That weekend I got the idea to take Davie to the park. I don't really know why, I just wanted to I guess. When I asked Christy, she seemed overjoyed. She made sure she packed us lunches in brown paper bags which I put in my backpack so I wouldn't have to carry them. Davie got to wear his play clothes so he was excited over that almost more than going to the park.

Rick thought it was a good idea but I would have gone even if he didn't think it was a good idea. I was loading up my backpack with food and drinks as Davie ran down the hall and into the front room.

"Over here," I called. He thundered back down the hall and into the kitchen, nearly jumping out of skin.

"Can we go yet?" He had a baseball mitt and ball in his hand, ready to go.

"Yup, I'm ready. Are you?"

"Yup, yup," he nodded. We started walking to the door as Christy was coming down the stairs. "Bye mom!" Davie waved.

"By kids," she laughed. "Have fun, be safe!" I rolled my eyes and shut the door behind us. Automatically, if not routinely, I looked over to Evelyn's house. She was outside, talking to the mail man. It sounded like she was asking him if her college applications had come in the mail yet but he shook his head no.

"Stay here Davie," I told him, before I jogged over to Evelyn. "Hi Eve."

"Oh, hi Shane," she turned to me with a warm smile. "What's with the backpack?"

"I'm taking David to the park. Did you want to come with?"

"That depends, would you mind David?" She asked him.

"Davie," he corrected. "No you can come."

"Alright, I will then." All three of us started walking to the park together, Davie throwing up the baseball and catching it in his mitt.

"Be careful of the cars Davie," I warned.

"I will, don't worry," he called back, lobbing the ball into the air.

"He knows what he's doing," Evelyn teased, nudging me with her arm. "So I never got a chance to ask you, what was with those jocks and the football the other day?" I shifted the strap of the back pack over my shoulder higher and glanced at Davie, making sure he was on the sidewalk.

"Nothing," I mumbled. "I was just giving it back to him." We reached the park then and Davie took off running for the play ground while Evelyn and I went to sit down under the trees on the wide field.

"Tell me about your mom, about your life back in Elk Creek," Evelyn opted once we got settled there in our spots, across from each other.

"Alright," I wracked my brain for something we hadn't talked about in the last few weeks. "My best friend Kevin eats the same turkey with mayonnaise and cranberry sauce sandwiches everyday."

"He does?" She scrunched up her nose.

"Yeah, it's like Thanks Giving every day at his house. He lives with his grandma Rosalie because his parents dumped him there because he had tourettes. She doesn't mind making him a turkey almost once a week; she loves him but is always whacking him over the head with her purse."

"Does he have bad tourettes?"

"It depends on his mood really, or if he's taking his meds." I winced as Davie tripped while running around the play ground. But he was up and running towards the slide in a second.

"Do you miss your mom?" She asked so abruptly that it made me glace at her.

"Yeah," I admitted. "And me being here only proves what a fuck up I am and what a horrible son I was to her."

"No it doesn't," she contradicted. "It just means you needed a change of residence." I laughed and she smiled, touching my cast. "Did your brother draw these?"

"Yeah, I don't have half his talent."

"Come on," she said, rising to her feet and wiping off the grass that clung to her jeans.

"What for?" I asked, taking her hand that she offered and pulling myself to my feet. She didn't answer me, leaving me to follow her to the playground.

"Davie," she called, holding out her hands. "Toss me the ball." His head popped out from behind the big wheel attached to the side of the playground before he tossed it over to her.

"Can I play too?" He asked, jogging over.

"Of course, it wouldn't be half as much fun without you." He smiled really big and started running around the field. I took a few steps back so that we formed a triangle in the short, green grass. "Ready Shane?" She smirked, holding the ball at her hip.

"Take it easy on me, I'm crippled," I waved my cast and she rolled her eyes.

"You're such a girl." I scoffed and held up my hands, palm up for the ball. She craned her arm back and flickered her wrist, the ball making a perfect, lazy arch down into my hands. It made a packing sound as it hit my cast; I winced slightly as my broken wrist twanged with pain. Evelyn made an apologetic face but I smiled at her and turned to Davie.

"Are you ready?"

"Yeah!" He held up his mitt above his head, a giant smile on his face.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah!"

"Are you positive?"

"Yes!" He cried, waving his baseball mitt in the air. I chuckled and carefully chucked the ball at him. It bounced off the tip of his mitt as he covered his face with his other arm and hit the ground. Evelyn and I laughed as we watch him spin in a circle, searching for it. "I got it!" He scooped it up and smiled at us. He threw it back to me, off to the side a little so I had to practically dive to get it.

I tossed it to Evelyn who caught it easily with a smug grin before she rolled it through the grass to Davie.

We kept throwing the ball back and forth, diving a bit to catch it, jumping in the air or desperately running away and ducking from it for a while. Davie dropped a majority of the ones we tossed lightly to him, but everyone he caught; both Evelyn and I clapped and cheered until his little cheeks turned red. A young couple probably in their late twenties or early thirties were walking their Golden Lab, smiled adoringly at us from a far as they walked their dog along the park.

It felt so normal and yet…better. I loved being out here on this really nice day, throwing a baseball back and forth with Evelyn and Davie. I loved seeing Evelyn laugh if I missed the ball or the triumphant smile on Davie's face when he finally caught one. I caught the ball and tossed it to Eve. It sunk into her waiting hands perfectly but she kept it.

"Let's go on the swings," she opted.

"Yeah!" Davie tossed his mitt and was sprinting for the yellow swing.

"Throw the ball," I said, I liked playing catch. She smiled crookedly and hid the baseball behind her back.

"Nu-uh," she shook her head.

"Come on," I teased, an involuntary smile tugging on the corners of my mouth. "Just you and me, throw it."

"Nope," she shook her head again. "I want to go on the swings."

"Evelyn," I took a step forward and she stepped back, biting her lip to keep from laughing.

"Catch me first!" She took off running down the field, the ball in her hand. I laughed and took after her, she was a pretty fast runner and when she zigged, I zagged, making it even more difficult to catch her. My out stretched hand grazed her hips before she swiveled and was running back up the field, her dark hair flipping out behind her.

I ran after her, mud squelching under my shoes and grass spraying out from my hard instep. I was closing in on her; I could hear her bubbly laughter just before I wrapped my healed arm around her and pulled her to the ground under me. She was still laughing under me, both of us breathing so hard I chest rose and fell against each others. Her deep plum colored hair was fanned around her head like a shimmering halo and her emerald eyes danced. Carefully with my cast enclosed hand, I brushed a strand of her hair away from her face; I noticed my hand was shaking. We staid like that for a long minute, just lying close together, my arm wrapped around her while we both sort of stared at each other.

"Shane, Evelyn!" Davie called from the top of the slide. "Come play with me." We both laughed softly, our breathing back to normal and stood up.

Evelyn pressed the baseball into my chest. "You caught me."

"It wasn't easy." I took the ball from her and we both went over to the playground, climbing up to join Davie. We chased him around for a bit, Evelyn running around through the tan bark, jumping up and scaring Davie when he thought it was safe to venture off the playground as I chased him through it. His laughter was like silver bells ringing over the entire, massive playground that made me smile. I chased him over the little bridge, stomping heavily and quickly to make the chain links rattle around us. Davie laughed and sprinted away from me towards the steps but Evelyn was there, her hands raised like claws to scare him back.

Davie half yelped, half laughed and spun away from her but didn't look where he was going and fell off the play ground. He didn't fall hard or hit his head or anything but it spooked him enough so that he started crying. I could tell by her expression that Evelyn felt horrid but I didn't blame her. I jumped down as quickly as I could from the playground, electric shocks stinging my feet from the impact and ran over to my little brother.

I scooped him up and sat him on the ledge of the playground. "Are you okay?" I asked even though I knew he was. He sniffled and nodded, little tiny tears welling in his eyes. "Did you break anything? I think I'm going to have to amputate your body."

"What does that mean?" He wiped the back of his hand over his wet eye lashes.

"Cut it off," Evelyn said.

"_No_!" His blue eyes flew open and he tried to turn over so he could run away but I easily grabbed him and turned him back around.

"Yup, I'm going to have to cut right here," I said, pointing to his neck. He tucked his chin while he laughed, squirming away from me.

"We'll have to sedate him," Evelyn joined in.

"No time for that," I pulled Davie closer. "We'll have to do it right now, with our own hands."

"No, no!" Davie cried. "I'm okay, really!"

"Are you sure?" I asked, real wide-eyed. He nodded fervently so I clutched his head to my chest over dramatically. "I think he'll live Evelyn."

"Glory halleluiah!" She threw her hands up. Davie pushed out of my arms, laughing.

"You guys are funny."

"Come on Davie," I said. "I'll catch you going down the slide." He bolted away then towards the big, blue plastic slide that turned and turned like a corkscrew. Evelyn surprised me by taking my hand as we walked around to the other end of the playground together.

"Are you two dating?" Davie asked his head barely over the top of the slide.

"Mind your business and go down the slide," I told him. He complied, sitting down and pushing off. Evelyn allowed me to let go of her hand so I could bend and pick up Davie, swinging him around while cheering for him.

"Did you see how fast I went?" He asked, his face flushed.

"Yes! That was warp speed." I laughed, setting him down so he could run back to the top.

"I'm gonna go even faster!" He called as he climbed the steps. I told him to be careful the same time as Evelyn did, so we both laughed. Davie sat down, scooting up close to the edge and grabbing the sides of the slide. I could see him concentrating to use all of his power before he pushed off as hard as he could. His dark hair waved in the wind as he spiraled down the slide quicker than before.

I grabbed him just as his butt left the plastic slide and spun him around like before. "Did you see me? Did you see me?" He cried.

"I did, I was amazed." I kissed his cheeks as I spun him in circles, ignoring the steady throb in my broken wrist. I kept spinning and spinning, covering his little face with kisses and hugging him tight. Finally, I set him down but we were both so dizzy we staggered around for a moment. I turned and saw Evelyn smiling at me.

"What?" I asked, my head still twirling.

"That was cute," she said simply. I smirked at her and checked the time.

"Davie, it's time to go home." He didn't protest, instead climbed back down and all three of us walked over to my backpack in the shade that had grown significantly. Davie said he was hungry so I traded his mitt for one of the sandwiches Christy had made and handed one to him and Evelyn while we walked.

Evelyn nudged me as we walked home. "He's lagging behind." I looked over my shoulder and saw Davie slowing down a bit looking exhausted. Before I could act, Evelyn had easily scooped up Davie in her arms and was walking again.

"You don't mind carrying him?" I asked. Davie was already asleep, his cheeks squished against Evelyn's shoulder, his lips puckered.

"No," she said softly so not to wake him. I caught the last of his sandwich before it fell out of his hands and tossed it into a bush as we passed.

"I could carry him if you want," I suggested, even though my wrist was throbbing painfully.

"It's fine, I don't mind, really." We were nearing the house anyways, so I dropped it and let her carry my brother. When I thought she wasn't looking, I took out my bottle of pain pills and downed the last ones.

The walk home was nice and relaxing. All three of us were real fucking tired, and all I felt like doing was taking a long nap.

We turned the corner to our street and I froze. There was a very familiar red car parked in the driveway and I could hear arguing. "I should take him now," I mumbled, slinging the other strap of my backpack on and taking Davie from Evelyn.

"I had a really fun time," she said.

"Me too," I smiled at her but it faltered as I started recognizing the voices arguing. "Will your dad be mad that you went with me?"

"Yeah," she shrugged. "And my mom too, but I wanted to go and I'm glad I did."

"I'm glad you did too." I checked over my shoulder at the red car, we were stopped still a few houses away from ours. I turned back to Evelyn.

"Company?" She figured without looking.

"Yeah," I said guiltily, shifting Davie onto my other shoulder. "I'll call you later, or meet you at the window."

"Okay, sure thing." I bent and kissed her cheek once before turning away and walking towards the house with a sinking feeling in my gut like the death sentence had just been thrust upon me.

I cut through the grass up the driveway, steadying my breathing. I walked up the steps, the arguing getting louder, my eyes on my shoes. "But I've been call—there he is, Shane!" I glanced up at the all too familiar voice and saw the all too familiar face. Kevin was standing in front of the door, Rick blocking the way inside the house. "What is this, Daddy Day Care?" Kevin mumbled, eyeing Davie asleep on my chest. I passed Davie to Rick solemnly. "Dude, Shane, I've been calling you like mad—what the hell happened to you?" He lifted my arm with the cast, and eyed the slight pink, puckered mark that went through my eyebrow since they removed the stitches.

"Long story, why are you here?" I pulled my arm away.

"I told you, I've been calling you like mad. We need to talk." I glanced at Rick.

"He's cool Rick," I told him. "He's not going to rob the place."

"Not yet anyways," Kevin mumbled so only I could hear. Rick made a face but didn't argue before carrying Davie inside the house.

"What the hell Kevin?" I shoved him against the railing.

"Before we start beating the crap out of each other, we need to go where we can talk." He glared. I sighed heavily and waved him inside after me. I saw him looking around at all the fancy shit in the house as we went up to my room, closing the door and stuffing a towel at the bottom. I went over to the blinds and pulled them closed.

"What is it?" I asked, crossing my arms then wincing.

"First off, tell me what happened to you," he scoffed, picking up crap around my room.

I rolled my eyes and shifted my weight on my feet. "I went for a dive in the ocean and got pummeled."

"Why would you do that?" He frowned at me over his shoulder, looking at my radio alarm clock.

"I don't know, would you _please_ tell me why the fuck you are here Kevin?"

"Alright listen," he turned to me, I could already see he had stuffed something into his shirt. "Do you remember what you did with the guns?" My mind forced my thoughts away from that day, giving me a blank that made me feel sick. "Think real hard…"

"No," I finally croaked out.

"See when all of this shit was going down, we didn't think about what to do with the guns. I went back and looked but there was cops every where, still, everything taped off and I looked guilty going back. I even tried to check the forest where we buried them but I couldn't find shit. So I went back to that little back road and found this." He pulled a rough red fiber out of his pocket.

"What is it?" I frowned, taking it from him.

"A piece of that towel you found in _my_ car that _you_ used to try and clean up their _blood_…"

"Shit, finger prints," I breathed and he nodded slowly. "And we must have dropped the guns trying to burry them."

"Yeah, we must have. I searched my car and snuck into your room when your mom and sis were out but found nothing."

Kevin being alone in my room meant something valuable would be missing the next time I checked. I didn't doubt that it would be my stereo but now wasn't the time to think about that. I sank down on the edge of my bed, gripping the sides of my head.

"I don't know about the guns," I mumbled with my eyes closed. "But…maybe an animal picked up the towel, there's tons of coyotes and raccoons out there."

"Maybe man," Kevin shrugged, walking around the foot of my bed towards my window. "So what's it like living with your dad?"

"He's not my _dad_," I corrected, rubbing my eyes tiredly. "He's my _father_, he didn't raise me. And how do you _think_ it's like?"

"Hell," he chuckled, puling back the edge of my blinds.

"That's an understatement," I looked up and frowned. "What are you doing?"

"Check it out Shane," he said, biting his lower lip. "Some chick is getting undressed." I jumped to my feet and pushed him away from the window as hard as I could, a little too hard actually, he slammed into the wall, the blinds closing.

"What the hell is your….Oh," he smiled slowly, wickedly. "I get it, you like her."

"Shut up Kevin," I glared, walking away from him towards the amour against the wall. He shoved me suddenly, from behind, against the amour. "Get the fuck off me." I turned around, shoving him back.

"Listen to me Shane," he glared, grabbing me by my shirt in fist full. "Does she know?"

"What do you think? Why the hell would I tell her?" I retorted.

"I don't know," he admitted, still holding onto my shirt. "But don't even think about it. Don't get close to her Shane; she's just another person you'll get ripped away from if this all goes to shit. I saw how you acted holding Daniel —"

"David," I corrected.

"Whatever, I saw how you acted with him. You're getting too close to these people. What happened to the hard ass that didn't take shit from anyone and would punch them in the face if they pissed him off?" I didn't respond. I had almost forgotten that person — I wanted to. "Exactly. Bring him back and you'll lessen your chance of hurting these people as well, isn't your mom and you sister enough?" I flinched back from the venom, his hands tightening on my shirt. "Don't do this to them Shane."

"Fuck you Kevin," I spat, driving my palms as hard as I could into his chest, shoving him onto the ground. Instantly I was over him, one hand gripping a fist full of his hair so I could wrench his head back, my other hand raised into a solid fist. "I can do this on my own; I don't need to push everyone away."

"If you don't it'll lead to this Shane," he said pointedly. "You'll be agitated and angry all the time like you used to be. If someone says the wrong thing you'll throw them down and beat them up. You always do." I dropped my fist, letting go of him. He went on, finding my weak spot. "You won't be able to stop yourself Shane; I've seen you build up so much steam you exploded on the _janitor_ because he asked you to pick up your trash. You're lucky you didn't get expelled. And what if all of this stress and shit keeps building? It's gonna pop at some time, and then who are you going to throw down and beat up? Me, your brother? Or what about that girl next door?" I flinched away from him, taking a few steps back and sinking down again on my bed.

"Are people at school talking?" I asked after a minute.

"So fucking much," he said, still on the ground. "It would've died down quicker if you hadn't skipped town."

"They think I did it then?" I groaned.

"Pretty much," he nodded. "They keep talking about how good your timing was and everything."

"What do they say about you?"

"Me? Nothin'," she shrugged with a scoff. "At first they did, but I dropped a few fake tears every once in a while, showed up with blood shot eyes and tear stains at their memorial. They sort of forgotten about me, the spot lights on you now man."

"Thanks," I rolled my eyes.

Christy called us down for dinner shortly after and Kevin joined. He smiled and joked lightly, making everyone but me laugh. He played with Davie, complimented Christy's dress and talked business I didn't know he even knew about with Dick. I hung back in the side wings, thankful to escape the attention and stabbed at the peas with my fork.

I took a shower and changed in the bathroom, lingering there for a while before going back to my room. Christy had set up Kevin with a sleeping bag and he was sitting on it and the pillow as well on the floor next to my bed, smoking a cigarette.

"I'm not staying long, probably not even the whole night," he said between puffs, handing me one. I threw my damp towel on the floor and took it, climbing into bed. "Officer Stacie's back from his 'grief vacation' and is stalking me day and night. If he knew I was here, it would just make it even more obvious."

I nodded thoughtfully as I smoked, not even caring to open a window or at least turn on a fan. "Why are you so cool with all of this?" I blurted.

"I know what I did and I accepted it," he repeated the words his shrink had told him to say whenever he did something wrong. Except this wasn't just _wrong_ it was a double murder. "If I keep sulking and bitching," — he eyed me pointedly — "Then it's only going to get my ass in jail."

I took a long drag out of my cigarette and twisted one of my earrings as I thought. "Is prison even all that bad?" It sounded stupid and I wished I could take it back but I had already said it. He flicked his ashes on the carpet and slid his sleeping bag over it.

"Personally _I've_ never been there, but I hear you get a nice welcoming party."

"Never mind," I rolled my eyes.

"Of course it's that bad. You're locked in a tiny cell with some huge, fat man trying to make you his bitch while you get harassed and beaten up by other assholes in the joint. They'll try and stab you, take your shit and make life hell for you. Your family will stop visiting you and calling you or sending letters on your birthday or Christmas. Everything you once had will be gone for the rest of your life, 'cause face it Shane: we're not going for a visit, we're in for the long haul." I rolled over on my side and stubbed out my cigarette on my nightstand and rolled onto my back, looking up at the ceiling.

Sometime during the middle of the night I cracked my eyes open and saw Kevin's dark silhouette pulling his shirt and favorite hat on, the black one with the wide green bill he flipped up. I heard him grab his keys, take something off a shelf near the door, shove it in his pocket and leave. Still in my half awake state, I heard him walk down the stairs, open and close the doors and drive away.


End file.
